<?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-1605539485143311396</id><updated>2011-07-07T13:25:36.708-07:00</updated><category term='I'/><title type='text'>.</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>51</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-542291704438152708</id><published>2009-12-07T01:26:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-07T01:29:45.192-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>No more hiding just me. me against this fuck up world called my reality. And sometimes I can't stand tall because I feel broken, and destroyed. Where's my armor at, or some type of weapon to put me in my comfort zone. None of that, just me. Small little ol lisa, shameful me. This world is a cold one, but only the strong survive, so let's see if I can make it into battlefield.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Closed Out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-542291704438152708?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/542291704438152708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/12/no-more-hiding-just-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/542291704438152708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/542291704438152708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/12/no-more-hiding-just-me.html' title=''/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-2010394381162337148</id><published>2009-10-30T18:06:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-30T18:06:35.867-07:00</updated><title type='text'>shellz</title><content type='html'>dear lover,&lt;br /&gt;i figuered starting this off with a nice name would capture ur attention &amp; make you feel like everything is alright.but truth be told.i regret ever meeting you.&lt;br /&gt;i regret the day we first said "i love you".laying down and having a child is the only part i dont wish to take back.&lt;br /&gt;but ur lies &amp; your cheating and you dog ways just makes me sick.when i see you i have a urge to just kill you.&lt;br /&gt;i really sit back and question myself y? y did i fall for you? y wasnt i strong enough to just let go &amp; nip this all in the bud b4 it became this drastic&lt;br /&gt;but i sumwhere deep inside of my torn broken up heart.still do love you.still want to claim you,something you found hard to do with me.&lt;br /&gt;i think ive cried enough.been broken into more than just 2.not only hurting me but hurting yourself.to lie and move on and oretend that all of this&lt;br /&gt;was just another writen subjuect in your book of games.but this chapter was more than just wat you expreienced in the past.i think it was more than you couldve bared&lt;br /&gt;but how can i go on basing my life on wat couldve been.what shouldve been.and why isnt things perfect &amp; layed down the way i thought it would be&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-2010394381162337148?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/2010394381162337148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/10/shellz.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/2010394381162337148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/2010394381162337148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/10/shellz.html' title='shellz'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-7922977030121572121</id><published>2009-10-28T23:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-28T23:21:13.807-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Dear John Doe,&lt;br /&gt;Im writing you this letter to let you know what you have done to me.You made me fall for you and as bad as this sounds, I cant fall out. i have a son by you, we are all well aware of that and at times, I wish it wasnt by you. I wish we didnt share a special connectiont that will always have ties to each other. Now this might sound selfish, but at times I hate you. I hate you so much, I would rather just not see you ever again. At times when i do hate you, you know I do. You make me feel so beautiful but then you make me feel so ugly. When we argue, I hate just the presence of you. But then when i do love you, I just can't help myself. I love everything about you down to the weird looking toes that holds me when I'm in your arms. Loving you is deadly to me because at times, it leaves breatheless but you know all about that, huh? What have you done to me, why have you done this to me. You stupid prick, hating you has become easy to me. I love you more than life itself that it's impossible for me to even look twice at the damage you have caused my heart. Us argueing which we always do only becomes by way of connecting you. Im dissappointed in myself because I let you get this close before destroying me. I let you get so close that I let you almost lose my sanity. My son looks like you which sickens me to the core. Oh lord, is this my punishment because a love like this I cant take it anymore, but can't help but want some more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-7922977030121572121?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/7922977030121572121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/10/dear-john-doe-im-writing-you-this.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/7922977030121572121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/7922977030121572121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/10/dear-john-doe-im-writing-you-this.html' title=''/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-7659767649123012211</id><published>2009-10-24T15:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-24T15:40:22.732-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i miss her so much, you can't even imagine.I lost him and now, I'm mad that I did. Why couldn't we at least work it out and try to change something. Idk we could of tried alittle harder or did something different. I'm mad that i did, I'm mad i let him go. I loved him, more than I loved myself.Was that a mistake to do so? First real jog and it felt good. Baby gone so I have extra time to do me alittle and recover from janelle moving to NC. I miss her so much, because I don't have nobody to ask, "are you okay?" It's just me, so then that suck major cookies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-7659767649123012211?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/7659767649123012211/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-miss-her-so-much-you-cant-even.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/7659767649123012211'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/7659767649123012211'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-miss-her-so-much-you-cant-even.html' title=''/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-8182795035633867664</id><published>2009-10-19T03:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T03:26:22.081-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the math to a relationship</title><content type='html'>as i try to block you from being this essence to my light&lt;br /&gt;it's subtracted by the harmony of your soul&lt;br /&gt;if you add the bliss and muiltiple the pain&lt;br /&gt;you find one angry little girl&lt;br /&gt;searching for her lost love&lt;br /&gt;the math in our relationship will always divide itself &lt;br /&gt;so you see what im saying&lt;br /&gt;if i take 1/2 of us and put 1/3 then would you understand my equation?&lt;br /&gt;fraction out my heart and i'll show you my soul&lt;br /&gt;you took me to cloud 9 in drift me on tha moon&lt;br /&gt;felt so special close to be brand new&lt;br /&gt;even though it was for a period of time&lt;br /&gt;it was as if those few moments were all mine&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-8182795035633867664?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/8182795035633867664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/10/math-to-relationship.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/8182795035633867664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/8182795035633867664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/10/math-to-relationship.html' title='the math to a relationship'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-5913809523220477508</id><published>2009-10-19T00:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-19T00:52:26.221-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i lost three people in three weeks and I must say, it hurts like shit. I can't trust himself neither less to say him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-5913809523220477508?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/5913809523220477508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-lost-three-people-in-three-weeks-and.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/5913809523220477508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/5913809523220477508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-lost-three-people-in-three-weeks-and.html' title=''/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-7549815769832009073</id><published>2009-10-17T22:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-17T23:21:46.072-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>how do i let qo of somethinq that helps my heart beat&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-7549815769832009073?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/7549815769832009073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/10/how-do-i-let-qo-of-somethinq-that-helps.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/7549815769832009073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/7549815769832009073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/10/how-do-i-let-qo-of-somethinq-that-helps.html' title=''/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-4280445562378800986</id><published>2009-09-27T23:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T23:18:57.349-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Third Person speaking......</title><content type='html'>i can't speak&lt;br /&gt;i can't breathe&lt;br /&gt;i can't cry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;im dangerously in love with you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-4280445562378800986?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/4280445562378800986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/09/third-person-speaking.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/4280445562378800986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/4280445562378800986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/09/third-person-speaking.html' title='Third Person speaking......'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-5347488081940117550</id><published>2009-09-17T11:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-17T11:11:55.786-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i shouldn't</title><content type='html'>i shouldn't care about him but I do. I want to stop but I can't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It comes to the fact that I can't.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-5347488081940117550?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/5347488081940117550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-shouldnt.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/5347488081940117550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/5347488081940117550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-shouldnt.html' title='i shouldn&apos;t'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-133765612854365736</id><published>2009-09-15T23:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T23:23:06.986-07:00</updated><title type='text'>tyree</title><content type='html'>tyree went to go stay with his father for a couple of day's. He kept me from having nightmares.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-133765612854365736?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/133765612854365736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/09/tyree.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/133765612854365736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/133765612854365736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/09/tyree.html' title='tyree'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-7627177720006113849</id><published>2009-09-02T11:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-02T12:05:05.113-07:00</updated><title type='text'>somethin.</title><content type='html'>be aware that what you chase might not be worth chasing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if you cheat for it, you will resent it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if you steal it, it will haunt you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what you worked hard may become the sweetest thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;midniqht rider.i wanna ride with you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-7627177720006113849?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/7627177720006113849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/09/somethin.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/7627177720006113849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/7627177720006113849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/09/somethin.html' title='somethin.'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-2860469900083459412</id><published>2009-08-26T19:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-26T19:28:28.268-07:00</updated><title type='text'>before i knew honey dip......</title><content type='html'>wow i would of not have had tyree if it wasn't for honey dip.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-2860469900083459412?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/2860469900083459412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/08/before-i-knew-honey-dip.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/2860469900083459412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/2860469900083459412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/08/before-i-knew-honey-dip.html' title='before i knew honey dip......'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-3666208716274716443</id><published>2009-08-16T21:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-16T22:46:04.513-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='I'/><title type='text'>True Soul Mate</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;"I believe that love is an action, not an emotion" &lt;br /&gt;"a person who is perfectly suited to another in temperament" &lt;br /&gt;"someone who you can connect with in all aspects of life"&lt;br /&gt;"somebody who may be serious but able to stand someone who jokes" &lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was on Bg(baby-gaga) and they was discussing true love. I was wondering about this because they was like they still feel butterflies and get goosebumps everytime they think of there SO after 5 years and such. And after a long ass time with him, I still feel it and want to cry because how much I love him. Even  the rough times and the child we conceived, I loved him more than the first time I seem him. And throughout all this, I yet want to say fuck him because he put me through so much, more than I imagine. Nobody will never understand until they experience love so much, that it hurts. Sometimes loving him hurts so bad, that crying with him seem like the only way to show emotion. But after all this at the end of the day, It's him I want to be with. Not nobody else beside him and I dead feel like calling him and cursing him the fuck out because I'm crying about a stupid fucking song.&lt;u&gt; I still feel the goosebumps and I still feels the chills.&lt;/u&gt; I still feel the way he kiss me, I still feel his tears. I feel every little thing and every word he say, my poems are always about him, I still feel this way. Im still crazy in love with this fucking person that I can't stand but it's bizarre because I'm still crazy in love with a person who is the only one for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-3666208716274716443?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/3666208716274716443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/08/true-soul-mate.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/3666208716274716443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/3666208716274716443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/08/true-soul-mate.html' title='True Soul Mate'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-5445637059545431423</id><published>2009-08-15T21:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-15T21:45:25.187-07:00</updated><title type='text'>something not right.</title><content type='html'>i advise everyone to please get maxwell album because his work is just outstanding. I love his work, it just gives me a orgasm,literally. lol My song is Fistful of tears because it just captures my heart, makes me think and gives that stimulating feel for music. I think he work this shit badly.Back to ma topic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I go insane,crazy sometimes,trying to keep you from losing your mind, open your eyes, see whats in front of your face, save me from my fistful of tears.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Thats just the chours part. Now I'm back to ma topic.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trust Ma Gut, right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-5445637059545431423?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/5445637059545431423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/08/something-not-right.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/5445637059545431423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/5445637059545431423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/08/something-not-right.html' title='something not right.'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-4980969331183237500</id><published>2009-08-13T12:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-13T13:00:30.276-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jimmy Crack What!!????</title><content type='html'>I just had to find a title or it would of bug the shit out of me later on.It's been awhile I know so give me time to update. da dada daaaaaaaaaaaaaa tyree is 6 months(gasps) I know don't time fly by quicker than you can say hot PO-TA-TO.lol ummm this niqqa and I are arguinq day and niqht, so im not even worried about him. somehow i gotta see him for the rest of my life(FUCKKKKKK)why argue now, ya know?Ima kick myself now though while the going is good.Though I haven't been hearing from him at night, booty call hours my mind wanders. but this is to be continued.tiredness calls&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-4980969331183237500?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/4980969331183237500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/08/jimmy-crack-what.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/4980969331183237500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/4980969331183237500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/08/jimmy-crack-what.html' title='Jimmy Crack What!!????'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-806257226511684629</id><published>2009-07-21T22:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T23:41:00.345-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Existance In A Perfect Man</title><content type='html'>As he walks in the room&lt;br /&gt;I bottled in emotion&lt;br /&gt;I can't inhale or exhale&lt;br /&gt;He took my breathe away&lt;br /&gt;He took my sanity to think or to even speak&lt;br /&gt;I wish he was in my arms, I wish he was mine&lt;br /&gt;The way he walks almost seem like he floats across the room&lt;br /&gt;I thought he was an angel but knew this heavenly person couldn't have been&lt;br /&gt;The way he talks.......hmmmmm smooth talker,beatiuful smile, white teeth&lt;br /&gt;God must have send him to me&lt;br /&gt;I wish he dreamt me in his sleep, I wish he carried me in his spirit &lt;br /&gt;I wish this man can make me his queen, the mother of his kids, the jada to his will&lt;br /&gt;the love of his life&lt;br /&gt;He perfect these qualities in so little time,I don't want to think twice &lt;br /&gt;He hides the truth of his abilities and it question me,&lt;br /&gt;Was he meant for this earth?&lt;br /&gt;the way he looks, you can tell he's damaqe but he manaqes to get past it&lt;br /&gt;He see's better things, better life, as well for a promising future&lt;br /&gt;My love for him seem to grow but he won't let me in, he wont let me get his heart&lt;br /&gt;He don't wanna fall in love but I chosed to be&lt;br /&gt;I chosed to see this perfect man in him, I chosed to see through his flaws and what he is really made of&lt;br /&gt;I may be talking to much but you see, he needs to know in my eyes I see him for this perfect man for me&lt;br /&gt;He mellows my soul and makes me fall in love all over &lt;br /&gt;He simulates the real in me and makes me feel alive&lt;br /&gt;It's not even about needinq this 'perfect man' but by knowing he is just there that makes you feel at ease&lt;br /&gt;&lt;big&gt;EDITED/TO BE CONTINUED&lt;/big&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-806257226511684629?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/806257226511684629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/07/existance-in-perfect-man.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/806257226511684629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/806257226511684629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/07/existance-in-perfect-man.html' title='Existance In A Perfect Man'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-1620598575326836908</id><published>2009-07-16T18:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T18:58:35.472-07:00</updated><title type='text'>luam work</title><content type='html'>her dancinq is the shit, real talk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but i need to shower finish later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-1620598575326836908?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/1620598575326836908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/07/luam-work.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/1620598575326836908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/1620598575326836908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/07/luam-work.html' title='luam work'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-3319855430331667939</id><published>2009-07-14T04:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-14T05:09:18.570-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Are You Freakinq Serious?(Dishes)</title><content type='html'>I was tryinq to finish that Twiliqht book so that I can qive bianca her book. ever since tyree was born, i've been tryinq to not make trouble. I don't want trouble because seriously, i'm like too tired to arque. but somehow, trouble seem to follow me everywhere i qo in this house. i'm upset about dishes because the shit was stupid and when it wakes my son up, then i have a arquement. dealinq with my son, i'm qoinq to scream out loud for. woke me up because janelle has dishes, im keepinq count, you always sayinq i qot dishes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;where all the damn jobs at, oh boy?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-3319855430331667939?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/3319855430331667939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/07/are-you-freakinq-seriousdishes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/3319855430331667939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/3319855430331667939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/07/are-you-freakinq-seriousdishes.html' title='Are You Freakinq Serious?(Dishes)'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-6429120829511184959</id><published>2009-07-13T22:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T22:49:46.271-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ohhhh Yea.</title><content type='html'>I think it's way early for a countdown so I won't even do it. I kind have done my bloq but you know laziness do kick in when you have free time. I apoliqize, but overall weekend was cool. I was with my loved ones, My porckchop and my honey dip for the weekend. This weekend went actually well, without us threaten to kill each other. We made it through, back together.........ehhhhh not so sure about that. I met his father side of the family and they cool, accepted me with open arms. They never judqe, do they ever? I can see myself qettinq comfortable????? No relationship is perfect because each will have there days of laughter,enjoyment and even total bliss but once those day's come when tears and emotions get involved, will you give it up even if it's so hard you can't see tomorrow????My honey dip and I have been throuqh it and when i tell you we came a lonq way, we have. We created a son throuqh our crazy madness and at first it was difficult but i learned to accept what God qives you because the next person can have it worse than you. One thinq honey dip tauqht me was no matter what, money is everythinq #2 depend on yourself mostly and family for some. When I needed someone, honey dip was there with open arms when no one else was. What is that tellinq you???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;"If enduring pain, braving shame, despising one's self for the sake of affection and accepting misery without question is the definition of love - then, I LOVE YOU."-Marvin Jay M. Torres&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-6429120829511184959?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/6429120829511184959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/07/ohhhh-yea.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/6429120829511184959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/6429120829511184959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/07/ohhhh-yea.html' title='Ohhhh Yea.'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-2697064107319802549</id><published>2009-07-08T06:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T08:07:21.889-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Us</title><content type='html'>My deepest fear,&lt;br /&gt;My darkest love,&lt;br /&gt;My undefine desire,&lt;br /&gt;You keep me sane through thee hours,&lt;br /&gt;Though time may past and change may occur,&lt;br /&gt;You my only backbone to reality &lt;br /&gt;Though at times our future is bleak and challenged,&lt;br /&gt;I hope our love will make it through somehow,&lt;br /&gt;A dream without no hope or a love without no emotion&lt;br /&gt;Thats how I feel when where in this battlefeild&lt;br /&gt;As I self destruct without your existance near&lt;br /&gt;The pains within my heart ache for your love&lt;br /&gt;You see,to not know Im calling on you to free me&lt;br /&gt;Regardless of the missions we endured&lt;br /&gt;Somehow, I know there is more for us to face&lt;br /&gt;More for us to enjoy, and more for us to love&lt;br /&gt;To hold, to cherish, to capture &lt;br /&gt;Theres more out there for us, for me, for you &lt;br /&gt;For our future....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-2697064107319802549?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/2697064107319802549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/07/us.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/2697064107319802549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/2697064107319802549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/07/us.html' title='Us'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-3905231154435814053</id><published>2009-07-07T16:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T16:49:19.949-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sadness</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;You mean to look me in my face&lt;br /&gt;And tell me you not hurt at how your treating this whole situation&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until you learn to treat people with respect, you will not hear from us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love Always,Not Me&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-3905231154435814053?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/3905231154435814053/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/07/sadness.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/3905231154435814053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/3905231154435814053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/07/sadness.html' title='Sadness'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-1826557951831611065</id><published>2009-07-07T10:30:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T10:45:29.215-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Know Everyone Getting Tired Of Hearing about this.....</title><content type='html'>Today my legend, my idol will be put to sleep and I can't tell you how much that hurts my heart. Beside the other other posts from people saying there tired about hearing 'the michael jackson story', I don't give two flying fucks. He was something more to me than anyone I can think of, like dead ass I'm tearing because I'm shocked and I still am. This is my dancing idol and I have so much to say but words can't even say how I feel. When he first passed, it actually happened on the same day as my graduation, how ironic is that huh? Maybe it didn't actually hit me until now. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;my son will know how much you meant to be. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-1826557951831611065?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/1826557951831611065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-know-everyone-getting-tired-of.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/1826557951831611065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/1826557951831611065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-know-everyone-getting-tired-of.html' title='I Know Everyone Getting Tired Of Hearing about this.....'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-8366953999904409665</id><published>2009-07-01T10:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-01T10:39:32.286-07:00</updated><title type='text'>tyree.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i287.photobucket.com/albums/ll123/SwagWife32/038-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 319px;" src="http://i287.photobucket.com/albums/ll123/SwagWife32/038-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can Anyone Say Photography Next?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-8366953999904409665?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/8366953999904409665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/07/my-baby-love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/8366953999904409665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/8366953999904409665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/07/my-baby-love.html' title='tyree.'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-3935293670181189365</id><published>2009-06-30T07:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T22:50:33.392-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hot Ass Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You ease my mind, &lt;br /&gt;Until the existance isn't there,&lt;br /&gt;as if Ive known the real you, &lt;br /&gt;hiding deep within the worlds surface,&lt;br /&gt;and to say i was blindly fooled,&lt;br /&gt;by the devils advocate,&lt;br /&gt;Just think of how it would have been&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DAMN HOT ASS HEAT, WHERE THA TUNDASTORMS AT.(LOL)Honey Dip And I Aren't together and maybe it's better this way. Gives us some space to get ourselves together or should I say me? Graduation was just awesome man, I was so damn proud. Tyree mom done did it and got that taken care of. One less thing to worry about and doors is and will start opening as we speak. Even though Honey Dip and i aren't together, it sure don't feel like it. We act the same but besides &lt;b&gt;NO SEX INVOLVED.&lt;/b&gt; We holding it together for our son sake but who know's maybe there is a future after all for us? Until then thurman and I will be the best of friends and I wish him as much luck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-3935293670181189365?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/3935293670181189365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/06/hot-ass-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/3935293670181189365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/3935293670181189365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/06/hot-ass-day.html' title='Hot Ass Day'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-6946257844805702518</id><published>2009-06-23T02:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T05:13:58.882-07:00</updated><title type='text'>te amo.</title><content type='html'>My mind wont let me sleep for the past couple of day. This nigga get on my nerves, I feel like just killing him. I can't focus right and I know why.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-6946257844805702518?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/6946257844805702518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/06/blank-mind.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/6946257844805702518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/6946257844805702518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/06/blank-mind.html' title='te amo.'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-7842410691809582592</id><published>2009-06-21T10:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T22:54:20.034-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fathers Day Special:CURSES INCLUDED:</title><content type='html'>Nigga forgot to mention how much I'm tired of dealing with his bullshit but yet I still hold on. I don't know why I continue, maybe that is my weakness. Seeing in the good in someone even when things get rough. I'm a sucker for love but not stupid for it. We called it quits....... It kind of makes me laugh but inside it hurts me because my son will not have anyone in his life who is going to be there and be there HALF the time.Like yo I don't ask for much, matter fact I don't ask at all. Only thing I say is this take care of your son and me&amp;&amp; you are good.I don't have time for the bullshit or for the pity game songs because it's stupid and not worth the tears for.It really is so he got mad. I'm not going to make him see his son because that shouldnt be a fucking chore too. My love for him is strong but not strong enough for you to disappoint our son at the same time. Like it was your first fathers day and his of course he won't remember it but I will. SMFH and  yet im the immature one right. this shit gets annoying and tiring of but yet I'm a bad mother. No actually I'm not, because I'm a fucking kickass mom. Tyree knows it and I damn sure know it too. Tyree was with his mom and dad for fathers day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;big&gt; &lt;b&gt;Happy fathers day to lisa because she damn near deserve the shit.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/big&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-7842410691809582592?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/7842410691809582592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/06/fathers-day-special.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/7842410691809582592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/7842410691809582592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/06/fathers-day-special.html' title='Fathers Day Special:CURSES INCLUDED:'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-3490245245932798999</id><published>2009-06-19T05:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-19T05:02:05.559-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The thing</title><content type='html'>its the same and she will always be here!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;annoyed&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-3490245245932798999?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/3490245245932798999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/06/thing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/3490245245932798999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/3490245245932798999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/06/thing.html' title='The thing'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-6469799166415110922</id><published>2009-06-16T01:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T22:05:12.907-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tyree Love</title><content type='html'>Good morning everyone, I havent even have the time to update everyone. It's difficult trying to keep up with a 4 month old baby and finishing school that I don't have no 'me' time for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Well here is my me time and I need to say hello . Oh man tyree is four months and getting bigger by the second.It don't even feel like time passed but it did. I never thought being a mother was this much work but it is and everyday I'm grateful to have such a spoiled and bratty kidd like mines. I love sleeping next to the most funniest most goofy kidd ever. It have it's days when the crying just don't stop and you can't take away little porkchop tears but patience is everything. That was my only advice into motherhood and let me tell you it is the best advice ever. Thurman and I are getting there, slowly things are getting better but in time it will be okay. As long as we continue to see eye to eye then no problem are being addressed at this point. Future might be in effect if we continue to not bring in our family/his family in the picture and take care of our son as a family. Don't get me wrong if he left, I will feel bothered but that will be based on his decision and me not forcing him to stay.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;As Tyree mother, I've learned that love is a word and actions speaks louder than words or love and that is based on my experience. Being a young mother can be hard because you kind of miss the old life you had before. But was my old life as just lisa really worth it??? My new life as tyree mother is much more rewarding than the life i had before as just being lisa. It gets hard and its tough,don't forget nerve-wrecking but nothing justify the smile you see in the morning when you see that creation you made. You just fall back in love again and I'm not talking about that puppy dog love but that love you will love until...... And it was hard dealing with Tyree because I was going through so much with the family and no support and I had to look deep in my sons eyes and see that no matter what I needed this kidd just as much as he needs me. When I talk, he actually listens even though he don't know a damn thing I'm saying just him looking at me is quite okay to me. Missing out on the movie nights and the laughs with the girls gets to me alittle but I make my own fun with Tyree. Motherhood sure don't have a how to book because if it did, I will be the first in line. motherhood is about learning on the way because you bound to make mistakes. I've made them and he only 4 months so you know I'm learning the best I can and how. Today at 1:00 i will be taking a important test that determine our future.&lt;br /&gt;My family and I will make it.&lt;br /&gt;No matter how hard I try and fail, Tyree will have a better life than me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-6469799166415110922?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/6469799166415110922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/06/updatesssw0w.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/6469799166415110922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/6469799166415110922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/06/updatesssw0w.html' title='Tyree Love'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-8214872492722471738</id><published>2009-05-26T23:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T23:05:17.816-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/ShzX-DOgWGI/AAAAAAAAAGc/Dx1cjQjZvNk/s1600-h/cutie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/ShzX-DOgWGI/AAAAAAAAAGc/Dx1cjQjZvNk/s320/cutie.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340380719172573282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/ShzX5CExFKI/AAAAAAAAAGU/JTkEWJ6WSFs/s1600-h/pookie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/ShzX5CExFKI/AAAAAAAAAGU/JTkEWJ6WSFs/s320/pookie.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340380632963945634" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-8214872492722471738?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/8214872492722471738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/8214872492722471738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/8214872492722471738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/ShzX-DOgWGI/AAAAAAAAAGc/Dx1cjQjZvNk/s72-c/cutie.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-3391969638244542675</id><published>2009-05-23T16:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-23T16:40:58.347-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Saturday Drama</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-3391969638244542675?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/3391969638244542675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/05/saturday-drama.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/3391969638244542675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/3391969638244542675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/05/saturday-drama.html' title='Saturday Drama'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-7709498574749125805</id><published>2009-05-23T00:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-23T00:57:15.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Whao. man</title><content type='html'>Hey hun's and gent's happe memorial day guys oh man 3 weeks away lol ima sneak a picture of tyree lol&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-7709498574749125805?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/7709498574749125805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/05/whao-man.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/7709498574749125805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/7709498574749125805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/05/whao-man.html' title='Whao. man'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-5338671539290777777</id><published>2009-05-16T21:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T21:24:55.107-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i cracked</title><content type='html'>suffering from PPD please help! im falling&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-5338671539290777777?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/5338671539290777777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-cracked.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/5338671539290777777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/5338671539290777777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-cracked.html' title='i cracked'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-896382527960370499</id><published>2009-05-06T17:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T17:31:42.405-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stressful Tuesday?Please Help</title><content type='html'>Hw wouldn't stop crying and Im crying along with him. Today was very stressful and it's still getting that way. Like it felt like I couldn't do it at a time. I'm a emotional wreck and the only person I wanna reach out to is one person. I tried to just let it go but if I don't its going to add on to the other stress I got going on. School isn't helping either because regents is just around the corner. If only I had someone to talk to that understand me then this will all be better. The only thing that is helping me is the train rides home and the music that won't leave my ears, school, tyree, home and all I wanted is someone to tell me that it's all right all I wanted. SAHM's dead ass I don't know how you do it because I would be going crazy which I am at this point&lt;br /&gt;I inhale but can't exhale.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-896382527960370499?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/896382527960370499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/05/stressful-tuesday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/896382527960370499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/896382527960370499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/05/stressful-tuesday.html' title='Stressful Tuesday?Please Help'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-8403811287879546523</id><published>2009-04-30T10:24:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T10:37:11.845-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Numb</title><content type='html'>I'm tryinq to write somethinq but nothinq is cominq to mind at this point. Does it ever? After what I faced last niqht, I think my body can take down anythinq. Im dwellinq on alot of thinqs now and I'm regretinq a whole bunch. But its too late, what's done is done and now I just have to wait until it runs its course. Karma is a bytch so it will come around soon enough. To me, I never thouqht i can kill at a sweet moment like this. Im fulled with anger and if you let me i will and always have a motive.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-8403811287879546523?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/8403811287879546523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/04/numb.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/8403811287879546523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/8403811287879546523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/04/numb.html' title='Numb'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-58172605345902827</id><published>2009-04-27T05:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-27T11:21:11.611-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Monday</title><content type='html'>Monday and yet I still feel like shit. The devil really trying to make me kill myself. I'm just so damn annoyed for no reason at all. i need to get out and clear my head for a few, just so i won't feel like this. Come to think about it, I can't. I got a damn cold due to fan being on cool all night. WHAT A DAMN IDIOT. everyone is makin me upset. I really want to say why the fuck did I get pregnant with a cheap dickhead person like this niqqa. People think since I'm young that I'm not smart but I'm very smart and I know exactly what I'm doing. It's funny though because people thinks just because I got a kid and go to school that I don't think when someone is trying to run a game on me or taken advantage of someone. Do I look that foolish to notice game when game is being played??? TWO CAN PLAY THAT GAME!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-58172605345902827?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/58172605345902827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/04/monday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/58172605345902827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/58172605345902827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/04/monday.html' title='Monday'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-4808969957427176908</id><published>2009-04-25T19:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T22:41:52.213-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Saturday Night</title><content type='html'>Well my uncle James is in the hospital and isn't breathing on his own. he kind of have me worried but the other part isn't. he don't care about me he use people to get what he wants and he makes grandma cry. today was also nana funeral and that kind of brought my spirit down alittle. Thinking outside of the box this weekend and the weather getting hotter thoughts fulled my head as a question of what if? What if i didnt get pregnant, have tyree and was jus't put me would i yet still feel complete??? Don't get me wrong tyree is a blessing and my miracle baby and there is no way in hell i would trade him but i can't help to ask, god was he my purpose to make me see something. God is always giving me these damn test to just see how i can srvivve and at times it's like i can help but want to slip for the hell of it. Im going to sleep now because my brain hurts and so is my heart but why lord, why???&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-4808969957427176908?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/4808969957427176908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/04/saturday-night.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/4808969957427176908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/4808969957427176908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/04/saturday-night.html' title='Saturday Night'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-664854664600090306</id><published>2009-04-21T23:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T23:28:28.449-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuesday Night/Saturday Morning</title><content type='html'>Have you ever felt like you was alone but really wasn't??? That's how I feel at this point. Like I know my family loves me as well as for my friends but yet still I feel alone like nobody is actually here for me. I haven't seen Thurman stank ass for awhile( o well) not my concern. My kidd look's just like him, I feel like burning thurman's face. That's not right, I know. Okay I'm not okay, I never was. I lied because my emotions doesn't really matter at this point. I'm last tyree is first. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I'm lonely&lt;br /&gt;I'm sad&lt;br /&gt;I'm stressed&lt;br /&gt;It's hard&lt;br /&gt;It's sickening&lt;br /&gt;It's unforgivable&lt;br /&gt;It's not me&lt;br /&gt;It's a phase &lt;br /&gt;It's unforgeable &lt;br /&gt;It's a lisa phase&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;qoodniqht.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-664854664600090306?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/664854664600090306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/04/tuesday-nightsaturday-morning.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/664854664600090306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/664854664600090306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/04/tuesday-nightsaturday-morning.html' title='Tuesday Night/Saturday Morning'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-5497904801643955235</id><published>2009-04-18T20:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-19T16:20:56.141-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Great Saturday</title><content type='html'>Well Tyree's grandparents and great grandmother came to see Ty and bring him his stroller. It's so pretty man that I'm grateful to have such great family that won't judge me. Even Ms.Atkins didn't get mad when they was making me mad and embrass by me lacking on how to put up the stroller. This day turned out better than I thought man. That little guy is so damn loved that I can finally breathe and know everything will be okay. I can finally say I'm loved and my son is as well. Were very much blessed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-5497904801643955235?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/5497904801643955235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/04/great-saturday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/5497904801643955235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/5497904801643955235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/04/great-saturday.html' title='A Great Saturday'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-5462589974344005371</id><published>2009-04-17T05:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-17T05:53:07.733-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Picture Reload</title><content type='html'>Ok so one day we was sitting in the house bored as hell with a non tired baby. Go figure so we did what, WE TOOK PICTURES OF OUR BAD ASS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/Seh5txOXr-I/AAAAAAAAAFo/eBMBrl5F0Hw/s1600-h/Photo+129.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/Seh5txOXr-I/AAAAAAAAAFo/eBMBrl5F0Hw/s320/Photo+129.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325640386580295650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt; He was tryna bite Janelle&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/Seh5t3kTsQI/AAAAAAAAAFg/I3q8qA8oJqg/s1600-h/Photo+128.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/Seh5t3kTsQI/AAAAAAAAAFg/I3q8qA8oJqg/s320/Photo+128.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325640388282921218" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was looking at mommy.&lt;br /&gt;he wanted to bitch slap Janelle but got her nose instead( He was hella close though, right?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/Seh5ti3dLRI/AAAAAAAAAFY/fHoWj7ZhvBs/s1600-h/Photo+121.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/Seh5ti3dLRI/AAAAAAAAAFY/fHoWj7ZhvBs/s320/Photo+121.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325640382726090002" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/Seh5tgNReWI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/VnG8Syis-Y0/s1600-h/Photo+118.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/Seh5tgNReWI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/VnG8Syis-Y0/s320/Photo+118.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325640382012291426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; OUR FIRST FAMILY PICTURE!!!!! FINALLY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/Seh5tl0upHI/AAAAAAAAAFI/6ePwWjq0XWA/s1600-h/Photo+117.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/Seh5tl0upHI/AAAAAAAAAFI/6ePwWjq0XWA/s320/Photo+117.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325640383519958130" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who is  cross-sided baby tonight( I AM I AM YAY) LMAO&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-5462589974344005371?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/5462589974344005371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/04/picture-reload.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/5462589974344005371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/5462589974344005371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/04/picture-reload.html' title='Picture Reload'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/Seh5txOXr-I/AAAAAAAAAFo/eBMBrl5F0Hw/s72-c/Photo+129.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-7796768859252362868</id><published>2009-04-10T20:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T20:15:53.054-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Out Part 2</title><content type='html'>Today was a good day without Tyree but minutes that I'm away from him I miss him more. Every second he is away from me, he seeing new things or learning something and I'm not there. It gets even sadder at night when he's not in his crib and I got to look at that empty crib. The unconditional love I got for my son is unspoken words man. Stay at mom moms I know what you mean when you say staying at home with the kids aint no joke because it isn't. Neither less to say raising one and going to school. I just miss that kidd so damn much that I feel lonely. I slept with my phone next to me and the pictures showing just so that if I start missing him, his picture will be there. I wanna hear him cry, I wanna see his eyes. Like I'm just thinking he seeing new things and smiling and I just don't wanna miss anything. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Love you Tyree. &lt;br /&gt;You Are My World.&lt;br /&gt;Nothing else Matters&lt;br /&gt;You are My Future.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-7796768859252362868?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/7796768859252362868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/04/out-part-2.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/7796768859252362868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/7796768859252362868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/04/out-part-2.html' title='Out Part 2'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-1370793250434576210</id><published>2009-04-09T21:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T20:16:31.094-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I miss my son</title><content type='html'>Damn I shouldn't have done this if I knew I wasn't ready. I miss him crying because he needed me. I miss the way he smile when he sleep, I miss the way his alien head use to just look at me like i was gold. Damn I miss my son so bad that I'm about to go pick him up and I just bring him tonight. &lt;br /&gt;FINISH LATER&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-1370793250434576210?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/1370793250434576210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-miss-my-son.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/1370793250434576210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/1370793250434576210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/04/i-miss-my-son.html' title='I miss my son'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-7406053755800835394</id><published>2009-04-03T14:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T14:25:07.887-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Weeks Madness</title><content type='html'>Tyree is almost two months, where does the time go? I still remember when I was giving birth to him and he was small and tiny that i can hold him with one arm. Now i need two and it shocks me everyday. Last Night I was discussing my future or should I say our future with his father. Now don't get me wrong I do have a plan but is it enough to get us by. Thurman is not even my concern right now because I don't know what is oing to happen between us and right now at this point I don't care. No matter what I do or say he will still see me be below him and that's quite okay because at this point I don't care. I spend too much time worrying about this dude when I have someone who needs me more than anyone.  No matter what, at the end of the day Tyree and I will be fine. We going to be okay even if all the plans I want don't work out. I don't have no more time to be wasting on simple shit like going over the past when shit's not even that important. Anyone for drinks tonight, I need nice tall glass of it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-7406053755800835394?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/7406053755800835394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/04/weeks-madness.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/7406053755800835394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/7406053755800835394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/04/weeks-madness.html' title='Weeks Madness'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-1230756690263035006</id><published>2009-03-30T23:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T00:11:58.954-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Movie Knowing</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;That movie is the truth and I advise everyone to go see it or get it in dvd. I thought it was alittle scary but I'm a wuss and get scared when my dad even puts on the goosebumps mask(No lie, I'm a real wuss lol). The movie is about a girl who seen the world end before it actually happened. In the begginning of the movie, the teacher told them to write letters to the future. The little girl wrote numbers on a sheet of paper. The numbers represented the times, dates and location as to when a accident or a tragedy was going to happen. In the future, a man and his little boy was trying to prove it but people wouldn't believe them. When the accidents actually started to happen, people then got scared and nervous. The final date and location was when the world was coming to a end and they was trying to avoid it. Aliens knew about the accidents and was trying to save the boy by sending out warnings to everyone. I hate the ending because that actually might happened to the earth. It makes me think when will this world come to a end. I'm not scared of death, I'm scared of what the world is becoming now. It's scary, it's sad and it's God's work.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-1230756690263035006?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/1230756690263035006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/03/movie-knowing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/1230756690263035006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/1230756690263035006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/03/movie-knowing.html' title='The Movie Knowing'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-8388056534903981697</id><published>2009-03-30T22:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T23:50:29.218-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Headache Troubles</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I got a headache need I say more. But Im good and still breathing. Ahhhh emotions are going crazy so Im going to try to sum this up the best way I can. I can't promise I will say any more than Im thinking but I will surely try. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recovering from Thurman's and I altercation from last week, it's not getting any better. I thought we was but I was wrong, and it makes me feel like I'm always wrong. Someone asked me to prom and I was kind of hype( you would be to if someone asked you.) I was thinking about it but I can't do it. I don't even have money to pay for my damn phone bill, why would i think about going to prom with people i don't know or chill with on a daily basis. Last week I was in emotional distress and I'm thinking I am at this state of mind again. Nothing seem to be right, nobody seem to care and all the people don't really matter. Tyree seem to be the only one who actually has a eye for gold when he see me. Everyone seem to just be there and just see past me. I never picture my life to be this way but it is and I'm trying to figure out how can I make it better. Who do I need to erase to make my life easy????I think I know who I need to erase but I don't want to nor Im not ready. I wanna erase that last line but if I don't I would be lying to myself and yall. I'm not a lier nor do I hide the truth when it's right in front of me. What the fuck happened to me son? It's the first time I actually drink because of my life but for this, I need too. I feel trapped. I passed my classes so there's good in that, right? &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;MY HONEST TRUTH&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----&gt;When you love someone, you don't care about the outcome or the situation. You just know that you love someone and for some reason,you can't let go. It's like a bad addiction and you can't shake it because it's too powerful, to strong, to intense that when you try to let go something reminds you to stay and try for alittle while longer. And this thing you get trapped in is deadly and will cause you to lose sleep,to forget things and at some point forget your family you love. You cant blame it on the person, you gotta blame it on that damn love. Yeah I said it, that fucking love. And Yes I was badly cursed by it and no there is no cure for I, neither less to say I don't want one. I just wanna smile again, I wanna laugh again. I want to sigh and not have to worry about what he's doing because I miss him...It's even worse when i just finished leaving him and I miss the face he made or the way he said my name. At some point, I want to run with his love and don't turn back. In some cases I know if I was to ever stop going out with him, he won't get effected. Only me and that is the worst feeling ever. Heartache...............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt; at the end of the day, it is I who stand alone wishing for only happiness&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-8388056534903981697?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/8388056534903981697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/03/headache-troubles.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/8388056534903981697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/8388056534903981697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/03/headache-troubles.html' title='Headache Troubles'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-2070994586592163590</id><published>2009-03-26T22:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T23:17:48.527-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thursday Rain</title><content type='html'>Today it rained and I wanted to cry. I'm at a turning point where nothing seem to be right. I want it to rain so hard that I won't have to shed tears. I wanted it to rain so my heart can stop hurting. My body hurts, my heart burns but my heart still goes on for that little boy who would soon call me mommy.My son seen me cry and I don't know if he can tell I was crying but he did tell I was hurt. He whined alittle and I had rocked him to sleep with tears pouring from my eyes.I feel like Im alone  Right Now, I just want to hold my son but he fell asleep on me and sleeping peacefully. I feel unloved, unwanted, damaged but the greatest thing is the look on my sons face when he see me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;And I walk into the room full of people&lt;br /&gt;And still felt like i was the only one standing there with a broken heart....&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-2070994586592163590?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/2070994586592163590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/03/thursday-rain.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/2070994586592163590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/2070994586592163590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/03/thursday-rain.html' title='Thursday Rain'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-5101429456317913177</id><published>2009-03-25T00:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T23:38:24.167-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/ScnmxgZ8JlI/AAAAAAAAADg/ayTrPVguOm4/s1600-h/lunapic-123795037767967.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/ScnmxgZ8JlI/AAAAAAAAADg/ayTrPVguOm4/s320/lunapic-123795037767967.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317034573274293842" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt; Tyree Rashad Atkins took it all feburary 11,2009&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I woke up today, I felt blessed. He slept with me last night because the tears just wouldn't stop flowing. If I can shoot cupid, I would in a heartbeat. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Only a life lived for others is a life worthwhile.-ALBERT EINSTEIN:&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-5101429456317913177?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/5101429456317913177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/03/day-2.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/5101429456317913177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/5101429456317913177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/03/day-2.html' title='Day 2'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/ScnmxgZ8JlI/AAAAAAAAADg/ayTrPVguOm4/s72-c/lunapic-123795037767967.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-5999516661853289179</id><published>2009-03-23T22:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T23:42:30.715-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When The World Isn't Right Without you?</title><content type='html'>If a question that needs to be asked once, it has been asked so many times. When will I have enough and the question is i don't know? When will my heart just let up and let go and my heart will most likely say never. I can't explain to you how much I will rather just call it a day but instead I want to just say goodnight and leave it at that. But I can't because there is someone who depends on me more than anything and that's Tyree. I come to him with all my problems and never though he can't talk, his little voice say hold on. Maybe because it's his dad or because he just love me that much. I don't know but if I die, you will know I died from a broken heart which I kept getting after everything. A year and a couple of months and yet I still feel scared or nervous as if I'm about to destroy our happy family. I got a bit mark from him and that is a better statement than to say, love me forever. You don't understand well nor do I? Will I ever try to understand, maybe not but i damn sure want to cry myself to sleep tonight. This day just seem to perfect this morning and now I know it can all be taken away in just a blink of a eye. Enough is enough most people will say but that's just because they don't know the meaning of enough enough is when you are saying in your mind, im done with him completely and don't want to ever speak to them again. but at that same moment will forget about it in a few days or seconds wahever. ENOUGH ENOUGH is when your done and you will rather him just choke on his vomit. Im not done with him, i basily just want him to understand where im coming from?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-5999516661853289179?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/5999516661853289179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/03/when-world-isnt-right-without-you.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/5999516661853289179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/5999516661853289179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/03/when-world-isnt-right-without-you.html' title='When The World Isn&apos;t Right Without you?'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-2410463593821114937</id><published>2009-03-20T17:29:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T17:51:22.945-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Everything That Glitter Ain;t Gold</title><content type='html'>How many times I heard this saying and never knew the meaning of this. How I try for a perfect life but prefection don't always come in a day's process. I make my life seem like it has no problems but once nd a while I break down and cry. On day's like these Im emotional wreck due to school, tyree's finances, or just plain thinking about tyree's well being. How I'm going to finish school, I have no idea. I never knoe what happen's next and it kill's me because I want everything to be perfect for when he is older. If days like these come a dime a dozen then i want dibs on the first perfect life without no problems. i rather stay inside because inside my house, Tyree is safe from this poverty and violent world called life. I just wish I can protect him throughout his life so nobody and nothing can break or hurt him. My parents showed me but they didn't show me(got it?) so I just hope that thurman and I can show him so he can be strong for the real world. Not the world where dasies and fairies existed but where you gotta be humble and stay strong to make it on your own two feet. Sarurday came quicker than I thought and Im excited but also nervous because in some way I want to be accepted than liked. I'm going to finish writing later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-2410463593821114937?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/2410463593821114937/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/03/everything-that-glitter-aint-gold.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/2410463593821114937'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/2410463593821114937'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/03/everything-that-glitter-aint-gold.html' title='Everything That Glitter Ain;t Gold'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-292200833753046328</id><published>2009-03-18T06:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T10:34:33.313-07:00</updated><title type='text'>From Your Sleep</title><content type='html'>From Your sleep&lt;br /&gt;In the mist of the morning, i smell your morning breath and watch you sleep&lt;br /&gt;In some ways you seem more peaceful than when your awake&lt;br /&gt;Your face so calm while you slowly breath in the fresh air from the morning&lt;br /&gt;While Im watching you sleep, I can't help to think what are you dreaming&lt;br /&gt;Where your mind go personally while you dream your inner thought's&lt;br /&gt;It makes me wonder, does it involve me?&lt;br /&gt;As I slowly touch your smooth skin with my hands &lt;br /&gt;You breathe in a deep breath and let it out slowly&lt;br /&gt;I didn't want to wake you but I had to touch you &lt;br /&gt;Just so I can feel connected and in touch with your sleep&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hold that with me until you wake up from your sleep&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-292200833753046328?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/292200833753046328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/03/from-your-sleep-in-mist-of-morning-i.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/292200833753046328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/292200833753046328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/03/from-your-sleep-in-mist-of-morning-i.html' title='From Your Sleep'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-8466321418053808318</id><published>2009-03-18T00:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-18T00:41:38.977-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sun Rise</title><content type='html'>as the sun rise i woke to face another reality that somehow don't feel that its mine&lt;br /&gt;i feel it's someone else taking over my feelings and my emotions&lt;br /&gt;there messing with my heart and playing war with my battles&lt;br /&gt;making it so hard to see what is destine to be my own self&lt;br /&gt;trying to overcome the heartbreak of being a young women &lt;br /&gt;but yet fulling the souls of the youth of my time&lt;br /&gt;when will my time come to make a difference?&lt;br /&gt;when will it be our time to shine, i ask myself?&lt;br /&gt;nobody seem to know the answer, &lt;br /&gt;except for the fact that when i do try to change, im back to where i started from?&lt;br /&gt;there is alot of people who ask the same question i ask everyday but don't know where to start&lt;br /&gt;as the sun still sets, i visualize a life without the sun &lt;br /&gt;without happiness, without joy and without the freedom&lt;br /&gt;without the need to feel so whole that nothing and nobody can turn you down&lt;br /&gt;the need to feel loved because all you ever feel right now is complete loneiness&lt;br /&gt;and the need to want to go with life because all you feel at this point is destruction.&lt;br /&gt;tell me when will the sun will fall?&lt;br /&gt;tell me when the sun will set?&lt;br /&gt;tell me when the sun will be me?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-8466321418053808318?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/8466321418053808318/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/03/sun-rise.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/8466321418053808318'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/8466321418053808318'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/03/sun-rise.html' title='Sun Rise'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1605539485143311396.post-1440394620141177964</id><published>2009-03-16T22:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T22:30:16.944-07:00</updated><title type='text'>God's Worth</title><content type='html'>im lisa.&lt;div&gt;this is my second blog and i will only talk about my feelings and my emotions. This is not for me to understand how I think or to get in my mind, this is to just flow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; To understand me, you will first have to understand my life. It's complicated and unreal but very yet interesting. At days like these, I never understand why God has his purpose but do he ever? You never understand why God do the things he do but they always work out for the best. I am very much blessed with the ability to think,write,draw,dance,sing and free write on my own. He has given me so much to live for that I never understand why I am the way I am today. To the person I was before wasn't going to survive in the long run. It might have died before I even hit 20 but I'm changed from that. Today when I woke up, my son was next to me as always. I know CIO sleepin ain't right but who cares, that's my baby and I need him to be next to me just to know I'm alive and very much well. That's who my days revolve around and It's a blessing truely. God gives us task's and challenges, not to punish us but to build us into the person for the future. We live wondering why and never enjoying our life. We get selfish with life because we want this and we want that but one day we have to thank God for getting us up and actually taking the time out to love us. I never want to show him to the world because a person like my son, he is to special to even show to this world. He is my miracle baby and I am forever saved to the thanks of my son Tyree Rashad Atkins&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1605539485143311396-1440394620141177964?l=bialisa.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/feeds/1440394620141177964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/03/gods-worth.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/1440394620141177964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1605539485143311396/posts/default/1440394620141177964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bialisa.blogspot.com/2009/03/gods-worth.html' title='God&apos;s Worth'/><author><name>bia.lisa</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16663472524467912402</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N-txykrua84/SlwRtHdAOHI/AAAAAAAAAJI/rI4WLzGkc7E/S220/mms070809_3.jpeg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
