<?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-9015280520619057468</id><updated>2012-01-24T18:55:28.164-05:00</updated><category term='Có lẽ...'/><category term='pictures'/><category term='quotes'/><category term='film'/><category term='thơ'/><category term='for life'/><category term='lượm cho mình'/><category term='written for someone'/><category term='written for no one'/><category term='written for me'/><title type='text'>Pensées de la Ciel</title><subtitle type='html'>- "The beauty of life is, while we cannot undo what is done, we can see it, understand it, learn from it and change. So that every new moment is spent not in regret, guilt, fear or anger, but in wisdom, understanding and love." -</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>66</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-7496146898099229982</id><published>2011-01-18T19:55:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-18T20:18:09.294-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;It was a sunny day in London, and more than anything, I wish you were here with me. In midst of all the grandeur of the century old buildings and the haste of the dashing Londoners, I miss you. All I could think about was how much fun we'd have together if you were here, about how I could hold your hands and together we'd explore every corners of London, its stone-paved streets and its hidden charms. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have tried so hard to forget about you. Yet my failed attempt to replace you allowed me to finally realize that it's always been you. It's always going to be. You're the only person that I can fully let all my guards down, that I can tell every secrets, without any hesitation or shame. You were there for me through it all. I pushed you, and instead of pushing back, you pulled me even closer. Instead of telling me how you feel, you showed me. With every touch, you emblazon a painting with infinite possibilities, for you, for me, for us.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't need to be your first, I just want to be your last.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The secrets that we shared, the joy that we created, the night that was the beginning for many things--all of that was the perfect goodbye gift.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Four months, and you'll get to see me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Four months, and we'll take on the world together.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Four months, and I might or might not fall in love with you again. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-7496146898099229982?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/7496146898099229982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=7496146898099229982&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/7496146898099229982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/7496146898099229982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2011/01/it-was-sunny-day-in-london-and-more.html' title=''/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-3180892519747639864</id><published>2010-07-23T09:56:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-23T10:06:49.175-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer</title><content type='html'>It's been the best summer I've had in a long time. The beautiful beaches, the precious faces, the wonderful moments, altogether made up a strand of remarkable moments--moments that changed me. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I set out on my adventure not knowing what to expect. The people I met along the way surprised me, taught me things that I did not understand. But I went in anyways, with all that I have. Little did I know, I came out with so much more.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm not sure where I am now is where I need, or supposed, to be. All I know is that I'm better, that I have passed the test that took me so long to learn, and that finally, I don't look at &lt;i&gt;you &lt;/i&gt;the same way anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-3180892519747639864?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/3180892519747639864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=3180892519747639864&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/3180892519747639864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/3180892519747639864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2010/07/summer.html' title='Summer'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-5435594863737887414</id><published>2010-07-22T23:48:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-22T23:48:20.545-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Như đã dấu yêu...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Trong đôi mắt anh, em là tất cả,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Là niềm vui, là hạnh phúc anh dấu yêu&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nhưng anh ước gì mình gặp nhau lúc anh chưa ràng buộc,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Và em chưa thuộc về ai..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Em sẽ cố quên khung trời hoa mộng,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ngày hè bên anh tình mình đến rất nhanh,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Em sẽ cố quên lần đầu mình đến bên nhau,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Rộn ràng như đã dấu yêu từ thuở nào.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anh đến với em với tất cả tâm hồn,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Em đến với anh với tất cả trái tim,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ta đến với nhau muộn màng trong đớn đau,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Một lần cho mãi nhớ thương dài lâu...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Trong đôi mắt em, anh là tất cả,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Là niềm vui, là mộng ước trong thoáng giây,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Anh sẽ cố quên rằng mình đã đến trong nhau,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nồng nàn như đã dấu yêu từ thuở nào.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-5435594863737887414?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/5435594863737887414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=5435594863737887414&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/5435594863737887414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/5435594863737887414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2010/07/nhu-dau-yeu.html' title='Như đã dấu yêu...'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-9013952438242017492</id><published>2010-06-22T19:08:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-22T19:09:13.801-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Past</title><content type='html'>I'm sitting here reading all the things I wrote about you. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How silly, I never loved you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-9013952438242017492?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/9013952438242017492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=9013952438242017492&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/9013952438242017492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/9013952438242017492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2010/06/past.html' title='Past'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-3145437767385519051</id><published>2010-05-26T22:09:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-23T09:55:50.556-04:00</updated><title type='text'>There.</title><content type='html'>I never knew what it was that held us together, the promises hung negligently on the corner of your lips, or the fake smiles that we use to hide the pain and resentment we're both so full of? We try so hard to walk together in hopes of reliving those wonderful moments that once were so real. I guess what's left is too broken to be fixed. Maybe it's not meant to be fixed anyways.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hung on so tightly with everything I have, every fiber of my being, and for what? It feels like I've been hanging on for so long that I forgot how to do anything else. My fingers became incapable of letting loose. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I guess I'll just have to teach myself. Little steps.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I will get there. But where, exactly, is there?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-3145437767385519051?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/3145437767385519051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=3145437767385519051&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/3145437767385519051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/3145437767385519051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2010/05/there.html' title='There.'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-5462556656566976619</id><published>2010-05-26T21:42:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-26T22:08:30.324-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Chỉ nghe tim nức nở...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Hai năm, ru đời nhau bằng những câu nói và tiếng cười. Cũng hai năm, xâu xé nhau bằng những nỗi đau trong im lặng. Thật sự thì cũng không biết cái gì đã trói buộc hai đứa lại với nhau, những lời hứa treo hờ nơi khoé môi, hay là những nụ cười giã tạo để che dấu những đau xót nơi đáy lòng? Tự hỏi hai đứa đã đem đến nhau được những gì ngoài những tiếng nấc ngẹn ngào và những sự dày vò mỏi mệt. Mình ráng đi bên đời nhau mong tìm lại được ngày xưa khi chưa có hoài nghi, khi cảm giác lúc bên nhau còn là những niềm vui thật sự. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Buổi chiều rũ xuống trên công viên, nơi hai đứa đã từng đi qua, nơi chứa đậy biết bao nhiêu là kĩ niệm, bao nhiêu nụ cười và giọt nước mắt. Con nắng nhỏ lần bị giấu đi trong khoảng trời đầy mây. Thấy mất đi một chút gì đó rất quen thuộc, một chút gì đó từ lâu không còn là của mình. Ừh, có lẽ đến lúc mình phải đi. Quay lưng, chợt nghe tim nức nở...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-5462556656566976619?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/5462556656566976619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=5462556656566976619&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/5462556656566976619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/5462556656566976619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2010/05/chi-nghe-tim-nuc-no.html' title='Chỉ nghe tim nức nở...'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-7719991357953388206</id><published>2010-05-08T21:06:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-26T21:54:48.986-04:00</updated><title type='text'>October 11th, 1:37am</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: 200%; "&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 200%; font-size:10.0pt;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#C0C0C0;"&gt;The worst thing, I think, about loving you is that I can’t stop; and I don’t think I ever will. I could, and probably will, fall in love again with someone else, but that still doesn’t mean I would stop loving you. Sometimes, I kind of like the fact that I love you. I like thinking about you as soon as I wake up with the sunlight and right before I fall asleep with the moonlight. It has always been you, faithfully you.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: 200%; "&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 200%; font-size:10.0pt;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#C0C0C0;"&gt;       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#C0C0C0;"&gt;I guess it is okay that you don’t love me back. I feel like the most important lesson one needs to learn about love is that you love someone not because they love you back, but you should love someone just simply because you love that person, and everything about them—everything that’s perfect and everything that’s fucked up. Love shouldn’t be demanding or doubting, but instead willing and unconditional. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: 200%; "&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 200%; font-size:10.0pt;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#C0C0C0;"&gt;       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#C0C0C0;"&gt;When it comes to you, I have loved; I have cried, countlessly and with no regrets. In all honestly, I feel like I haven’t been able to really do anything for you. What I feel only matters to me. Looking back, it seems like you have done more for me, a lot more, than I did for you. You have helped me come to accept myself for who I am. You taught me that sometimes, it is better to let go than to have false hopes. You were there with me, telling each other secrets that had never been told before. You walked with me when I was scared and then showed me that I could do it myself. You explained to me, patiently, about who you are and how you think—selfishly; and even though I listened, I chose not to believe; and just would keep on being patient with me. I pushed you, but instead of pushing back, you walked away because you didn’t want to hurt me. You always close the shutters before going to bed, even when you don’t sleep here, because you know I can’t sleep with them opened. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: 200%; "&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 200%; font-size:10.0pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#C0C0C0;"&gt;I always called you selfish, but I guess I’m the selfish one. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: 200%; "&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 200%; font-size:10.0pt;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#C0C0C0;"&gt;You always noticed it when I cried myself to sleep, despite how hard I tried to hide it. You would ask me, “what’s wrong?” And I would always answer,”nothing.”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: 200%; "&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 200%; font-size:10.0pt;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#C0C0C0;"&gt;       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#C0C0C0;"&gt;“But you’re crying…”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: 200%; "&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 200%; font-size:10.0pt;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#C0C0C0;"&gt;       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#C0C0C0;"&gt;“I’ll be okay. Good night.”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: 200%; "&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 200%; font-size:10.0pt;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#C0C0C0;"&gt;       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#C0C0C0;"&gt;“Night.”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; line-height: 200%; "&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="line-height: 200%; font-size:10.0pt;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#C0C0C0;"&gt;       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#C0C0C0;"&gt;But we both knew exactly what was wrong. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-7719991357953388206?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/7719991357953388206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=7719991357953388206&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/7719991357953388206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/7719991357953388206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2010/05/october-11th-137am.html' title='October 11th, 1:37am'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-6153865975581914386</id><published>2010-02-19T05:40:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-19T05:47:15.706-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I tried not to care about you, I really did--and I even thought I don't anymore. Until I stay up all night worrying about you. I know not having you in my life is better for me; I know not seeing you at all is better for me; I know you're nothing like someone I would want to spend time with. But I do.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Things kept rushing through my head all night. There were these confirmations echoing in the back of my mind--confirming that I don't care anymore, that I am okay with you not being here, that it's fine for you to not being in my life at all. They gradually became questions; questions that made me think a whole lot about what I want in life. I still don't think I want you. But I know I miss you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm going to have a long day tomorrow. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm going to be hanging on to a thread tomorrow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm going to start my first day in two years with you being a stranger.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I can do it. I ought to. For my own sake.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;I promised myself I wouldn't cry because of you anymore.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;I won't.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;I won't...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;I'm not crying. There is just something in my eyes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-6153865975581914386?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/6153865975581914386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=6153865975581914386&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/6153865975581914386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/6153865975581914386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-tried-not-to-care-about-you-i-really.html' title=''/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-2100453840430203375</id><published>2010-02-07T00:18:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-07T01:55:07.930-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My attempt to color the memories.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I miss the days when we were together, not as in being committed in a relationship but as in being physically next to each other. Even though that was only a brief instant, it was filled with so much frivolous fun and youthful excitement. There was so many things I can recall about us. What happened almost two years ago seems so vividly as if it had just happened yesterday--maybe because not a single day goes by that I don't wish to relive those days with you? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I remember exactly the perky way you pretended to carelessly put your arms around me, and the strange way that we lied taking a nap with your puppy. I guess somewhere along those lines, I became a fool, holding so dear to my heart the simple little things that meant nothing to you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;We didn't make history like I had wanted us to--we couldn't have made it last anyways. I desolately colored the empty memories we had with such vibrant colors and abounding hopes only to find out that the colors were too quickly achromatized and the hopes too subtly vaporized. You moved on, as swiftly as you always do; and I stayed behind.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-2100453840430203375?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/2100453840430203375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=2100453840430203375&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/2100453840430203375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/2100453840430203375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2010/02/my-attempt-to-color-memories.html' title='My attempt to color the memories.'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-2060105114012082800</id><published>2010-01-23T13:02:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-23T13:10:58.943-05:00</updated><title type='text'>"And if i could reverse it, I don't think it would be worth it</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Because I know in my heart I would never let you tumble to the ground.."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Because it's you, and me and love.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Because it's all of us, with one or the other. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;But never all together.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;And because I still love you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-2060105114012082800?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/2060105114012082800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=2060105114012082800&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/2060105114012082800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/2060105114012082800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2010/01/and-if-i-could-reverse-it-i-dont-think.html' title='&quot;And if i could reverse it, I don&apos;t think it would be worth it'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-6520728232342178668</id><published>2009-12-20T01:54:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-09T00:56:09.994-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;“They had built up a defective and asymmetrical friendship, made up of long absences and much silence, a clean and empty space to which both could come back to breathe when the walls of the school became too close for them to ignore the feeling of suffocation."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;It's been a difficult night. I haven't cried like this in a very long time. I suddenly miss you so much. I'm not sure if I'm okay with the way things ended between us. You were just quiet, just like every other time we got in an argument.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm sick and tired of hanging by the side of your life. I guess it doesn't matter how hard I try, I will never be a part of it; I will never be someone that you truly care about. Two years is a long time and I'm not sure how I could even make it that long. The next few days will be hard. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I honestly don't know what the point was, but I liked having you in my life. Maybe I built up, on my own, this illusion that you care about me, that you enjoy having my company, and that I mean more to you than just a mediocre friend. I'm not even sure why I fight so hard to get your attention--maybe because those feelings are still there? Sometimes I really honestly wish I never fell for you. It hurts. I know you're happy, and I wish for you nothing less. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hope you'll have a good life ahead of you. I'm done fighting to be a part of it--friendship was never supposed to be this difficult anyways. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-6520728232342178668?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/6520728232342178668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=6520728232342178668&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/6520728232342178668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/6520728232342178668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/12/they-had-built-up-defective-and.html' title=''/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-8801785582414313384</id><published>2009-12-16T01:57:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T02:13:10.535-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Vô Tình.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "&gt;Vô tình ta gặp nhau, trên dòng đời vội vã,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Vô tình ta gặp nhau, một khoảng trời thật xa,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Nỗi vô tình nào níu kéo đời nhau....&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Rồi thì với ấy, ta chẳng là gì cả. Mình chưa bao giờ thuộc về nhau, và sẽ không. Phải, trong một khoảng khắc nọ, hai đứa đã ở bên nhau, hỉu nhau, và ôm lấy nhau. Nhưng khoảng khắc chỉ trong thoáng giây rồi vụt tắt, để lại trong ta một miền kí ức ngổn ngang. Ta chìm trong cõi vắng của riêng mình, của những ngày tưởng chừng như đã rất xa kia.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Ừ, thì đó cũng chỉ là một sự vô tình thôi, mà sao thấy bản thân một chút gì đó thiệc thòi. Dư âm đã thôi vọng lại trong vũ khúc của những giấc mơ. Một bóng giáng, một giọng nói, một kiểu cách, tất cả đều hòa tan vào trong một khoảng trời xám đặc. Tiếng nhạc hòa tấu cao vút lên, để rồi đụng phải nóc phòng trống hoang, và lại rơi xuống--cũng như tôi, bước lên một niềm hạnh phúc mỏng manh, trong thoáng giây, để rồi một lúc nào đó, cuối người xuống và thấy mình đang khóc.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Rồi ngày kia qua phố, ta sẽ lại nhìn nhau như hai người xa lạ...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-8801785582414313384?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/8801785582414313384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=8801785582414313384&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/8801785582414313384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/8801785582414313384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/12/vo-tinh.html' title='Vô Tình.'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-6647641473054977407</id><published>2009-12-14T21:19:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-14T21:41:55.397-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Đông.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Đến kì nghỉ đông rồi, vậy là thêm một năm nữa trôi qua. Mà sao ta thấy mình vẫn vậy, còn đứng yên giữa đống thổn thức. Nhìn lại khoảng đường đã đi qua, đâu đó thoáng chút bẽ bàng. Ngày nào còn đứng bên ai đó, nhìn nhau, mỉm cười, và yêu. Ngày nào cũng thật xa mà cũng thật gần, khi ta đến bên nhau, và rồi chia xa. Im lặng, và nhớ.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Một chút rạn vỡ dậy lên trong cõi nhớ mà từ lâu tưởng chừng như đã vụt khỏi tầm tay. Dang tay ra ôm lấy một khoảng không để rồi nhận biết rằng họ đã không còn ở đó. Xin cho một chút yên bình về. Im lặng, và khóc.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Có lẽ trong thương đau, ta tìm thấy sự tha thứ. Và đâu đó trong thoáng giây, vết nứt trở nên đẹp đến dịu kì. Gió mùa đông làm tê đôi bàn tay, hơi thở ngày xưa nay đã sưởi ấm một bàn tay khác. Im lặng, và lạnh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Dẫu biết ngày xưa giờ đã là vô nghĩa. Nhưng đâu đó giữa những sự vô tâm và lời nói dối, có một chút gì đó được quá khứ giữ lại. Đôi khi lại tự tạo cho mình một khối hình và đặt tên nó là hiện tại, để rồi ta tự áp đặt bạn thân trong cái khái niệm vốn dĩ đã là hoang tưởng ấy. Im lặng, và mơ.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Và ta không còn yêu mùa đông nữa. Bởi lẽ cái lạnh chỉ làm cho ta biết thêm rằng mình cần hơi ấm của con người đến thế nào. Những bông tuyết chỉ làm cho ta nhớ thêm rằng những nụ hôn ngày xưa tràng đầy yêu thương đến thế nào. Và những đôi tình nhân trên phố chỉ làm ta hiểu thêm rằng những cảm xúc hôm nao làm cho ta đau đớn đến thế nào. Im lặng, và chơi vơi.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;Mùa đông đã quay về, sao tôi còn nhớ ai..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;Làm sao để quên, hỡi mùa đông buồn tênh...?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-6647641473054977407?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/6647641473054977407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=6647641473054977407&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/6647641473054977407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/6647641473054977407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/12/ong.html' title='Đông.'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-4470685693474440093</id><published>2009-12-02T12:48:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-02T14:31:40.665-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Đi.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Buổi trưa mùa đông, mưa phùn.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Gặp người bạn thân ở quán cà phê nơi góc đường. Mưa lất phất tạt vào cửa sổ. Ngồi sát bức tường. Quán hôm nay đông người. Ly chai latte thơm hơn mọi khi. Ngồi tán dóc về những kỉ niệm cũ, những câu chuyện thời xửa thời xưa. Và rồi ta nhớ một người mà đã lâu tưởng là chẳng còn yêu.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Rồi lại đi bộ một mình, mưa cũng còn lất phất, hơi lạnh. Khuôn viên trường đại học hôm nay vắng người. Vẵng lặng thế mà lại hay. Ngẫm nghĩ một mình, chuyện gì đã qua, thì đã qua, không cố níu kéo lại nữa. Quá khứ đã gậm nhấm bản thân suốt một khoảng thời gian dài rồi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Cây đã trụi hết lá. Tháng 12, tháng để yêu và để nhớ.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Tháng của nhiều niềm hạnh phúc lẫn khổ đau.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Bước dong vòng những con đồi--những ngọn đồi phủ lá vàng, ướt nước mưa, những con đường đen lên một nỗi nhớ tưởng chừng như dài vô tận. Ngày hôm nay, ta vơi mình, để cho sự đau đớn và nhung nhớ làm kẻ thẳng cuộc. Và ta vùi đầu trong nỗi trống vắng, da diết.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Một lúc nào đó thức dậy, cuộn tròn trong chăn.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Và nhớ.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Ngày kia, ai đó sẽ đi mất.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Đi, không về nữa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Và ta sẽ nhớ.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-4470685693474440093?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/4470685693474440093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=4470685693474440093&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/4470685693474440093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/4470685693474440093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/12/i.html' title='Đi.'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-881223690986879767</id><published>2009-10-17T22:49:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-17T22:51:09.413-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Biển của mình.</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"Họ sống với biển của mình lâu đến nỗi, lúc cần tìm người, họ hoàn toàn mất dấu tích của nhau."&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Biển của tôi là một chuỗi kí ức, khi mỏng manh, hoặc dày cộm; khi hạnh phúc, hoặc đớn đau. Biển của tôi ẩn giấu một sự cô đơn mà ít có ai hiểu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Biển của tôi là một khung trời thuộc về ậy Tôi nhớ, hai đứa đều thích biển, nhiều lắm. Tôi thì yêu sự dịu dàng, ôm ấp của biển; còn ấy thích nhất vẻ bí ẩn của biển -- to lớn và không-thể-hiểu-hết.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Có lẽ biển của hai đứa khác nhau nhiều quá--thêm một lí do để ta không thuộc về nhau. Biển của ấy là những chuyến đi chơi xa, những cuộc chơi thâu đêm, những buổi chiều hẹn hò với ai kia, những bữa ăn tối với họ, và cả những giấc ngủ bên họ. Còn biển của tôi lại là những giấc mơ về ấy, những buổi chiều lang thang đi tìm mùa thu, những đêm mưa một mình trong quán cafe cùng một quyển tiểu thuyết hay, những khi chạy bộ thật xa để không còn nhớ về ấy--dù là chỉ trong chốc lát, và những giọt nước mắt ru tôi vào giấc ngủ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"Chờ người không tới, vẫn chờ..."&lt;/blockquote&gt;Không thành là vậy, không thuộc về nhau là vậy, tôi vẫn yêu và vẫn đợi. Mình không nợ nhau gì, có lắm cũng chỉ là vài cuộc hẹn và đôi ba bữa ăn. Không trách gì nhau, và cũng chẳng trách thời gian được; đơn giản là vậy, mà con tim đôi khi vẫn nhói lên, tưởng chừng như sắp vỡ. Nước mắt lạnh khô đi giữa căn phòng máy lạnh chạy hết công suất.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tôi thích cái lạnh, nó làm mọi thứ đơ lại, rét dậy, và phần nào đó ngất đi. Tôi muốn mình run lên vì lạnh chứ không phải vì mình đang khóc. Tôi khóc, ngất đi, và trở về biển của mình, của những giấc-mơ-không-bao-giờ-đến, của những viên đá đen mang tên kí ức, của một tình yêu thật chung thuỷ-dẫu là không thành, của những tàn phai trong những thứ đẹp nhất, và của một vũ trụ màu xám.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tôi yêu biển của mình, bởi vì ở nơi ấy tôi đã tìm thấy một chút thấu hiểu. Ngoài biển ra, ấy có lẽ là kẻ duy nhất hiểu được tôi--và hình như vì thế mà tôi yêu ấy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ừ, tôi sẽ không sao đâu, ai mà không một lần khóc?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thôi, ngủ ngon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;Je t'aime beaucoup&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-881223690986879767?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/881223690986879767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=881223690986879767&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/881223690986879767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/881223690986879767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/10/bien-cua-minh.html' title='Biển của mình.'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-7929909045731738195</id><published>2009-10-04T23:36:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T20:25:02.980-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Đừng Trách.</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Có những tình yêu tự đặt ra cho mình những giới hạn, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Có những yêu thương từ chối ta như thể ta không hề xứng đáng,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt; Nên đừng trách…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Là định mệnh ngẫu nhiên chọn ta giữa muôn triệu người để thử thách. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Tin một người ở trong tim như ta đã từng cố chấp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Tin một nụ hôn duy nhất ở giữa trời và đất; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Tin một ánh mắt mà nếu thiếu ta trong nhãn cầu sẽ cô độc; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Tin cả vào những tháng ngày ta nâng niu trên tay chỉ toàn là ngờ vực; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Bởi vẻ đẹp của những giấc mơ…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Chúng ta có thể đã sống đúng cuộc đời của những người trú mưa. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Tìm thấy một mái hiên rồi đứng chung lặng lẽ; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Thỉnh thoảng hỏi thăm nhau – nếu lạnh thì nép thêm vào một chút nhé? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Thỉnh thoảng cầm tay nhau – cho khác với những người xa lạ &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Thỉnh thoảng trách một lời – lúc cơn mưa bạt thêm vào lòng một chút gió &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Rồi thì nắng lên ở đâu đó ngoài phố,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Chúng ta mỗi người chỉ để lại được dấu chân…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Đừng trách.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Khi ta đến trong cuộc đời này với hình hài mà ta ước mong, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Mỗi ngày qua đều nhận ra không có gì là trọn vẹn. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Nhưng ta đã yêu thương theo cách những gì con người ta có được, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Chọn một con người để sẻ chia phần tâm hồn sâu thẳm nhất. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Tuyệt đối không tin vào những bất trắc, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Cho đến khi…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Điều đáng sợ trong tình yêu không phải là lúc con người ta yêu thương đã mất đi, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Mà chính là tình yêu ấy không hề giống như ta tưởng tượng; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Con người ấy không hề giống như ta vẫn biết. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Trái tim ấy không hề giống như trái tim ta--nằm bình yên trong ngực. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Và ta quặn đau…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;span id="more-4826" style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Đừng trách.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt; Nếu ta tự nhủ mình vẫn tin vào phép màu. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Khi ai đó không chọn lựa ta nghĩa là ta thuộc về một chọn lựa khác, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Nghĩa là từ giây phút này bàn tay ta cần nắm còn đang ở phía trước, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Nghĩa là tình yêu trong ta chỉ mới bắt đầu cuộc hành trình dài được vài bước,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Nghĩa là nỗi cô đơn này là vực sâu cần thiết &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Phải một lần được gieo xuống &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Trong gió mưa…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Rồi chúng ta sẽ mỉm cười với cái gọi là ngày xưa. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Làm thế nào biết trước đúng hay sai để mà lo lắng? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Ta chỉ đủ bao dung khi đi qua được oán hận, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Nhìn người mình yêu thương nay sống một cuộc đời với người khác,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Như một niềm vui…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Sao không cho ta&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-converted-space"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt; thêm một c&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;ơ hội để định mệnh giúp ta gặp đúng một con người?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;-NPV&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Nỗi cô đơn, cái mà được gọi là vực sâu cần thiết kia, sâu hơn ta đã từng tưởng.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Không muốn chĩ đứng bên đời mà nhìn người mình yêu thương vui bên người khác.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Có lẽ vẫn chưa học được bài học của sự bao dung.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Đôi khi những giọt nước mắt rơi trong đêm, và những miếng vỡ của trái tim--tất cả đều không có nghĩa gì.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Đôi khi con người ta quá cứng đầu và quyết không chịu chấp nhận sự thật.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Nhưng mà đâu phải lỗi của ai.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Giá mà ấy tàn nhẫn với mình một lần, thì mọi thứ đã dễ hơn nhiều rồi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Giá mà ta không thể hiểu được ấy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Ừh, vẫn không trách đâu.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#999999;"&gt;Ừh, thì cho cùng, mình cũng chĩ là những kẻ trú mưa thôi mà, phải không?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-7929909045731738195?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/7929909045731738195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=7929909045731738195&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/7929909045731738195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/7929909045731738195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/10/ung-trach.html' title='Đừng Trách.'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-5260335624741136325</id><published>2009-09-29T12:19:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T13:57:11.602-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Fall.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;It's back. I'm back.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;I can start to feel the gentleness of the autumn wind swifting through my skin. Who says love, comfort and closure have to come from another human being? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;The leaves are dying, falling from really tall and big trees. It almost looks like snow, only with bigger and rusty flakes. I've always thought that fall is the most beautiful season of all--the aroma of decomposing leaves, the chill of the september wind, the blueness of the cloudy sky, and the spontaneity of the occasional afternoon rain. Everything about fall is so gentle, and dreamy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;But there is also something deeply sad about it, in the way everything dies. I take it as a sign of hope. Fall, for me, is the time when reality and dreams fuse together. It's sort of a period in a year during which life becomes so close to how it should be. The dying and decomposing reflects the lies and selfishness of the world. The world is almost exactly as it should be--fickle and fucked up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;Autumn affirms the truth that there is always an end, always a "goodbye" following a "hello," that what comes next will be a cold and harsh winter, yet at the same time it ignites a spark of hope in its beauty--the realization that hopelessness is and just a part of life and that comfort can be found in brokenness.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;Perhaps what i love the most about autumn is its temperature. Unlike winter--when life becomes so cold that everything becomes numbed--fall is just cold enough to take me into a slightly different, more dreamy world, my world. I suddenly become alive, more than ever. It is kind of like waking up from, not a nightmare, but rather an unpleasant dream. Something inside me heals itself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;Because I couldn't get out of my dreams, reality becomes my dreams.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; "&gt;And dreams don't always have to be fairy tales.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-5260335624741136325?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/5260335624741136325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=5260335624741136325&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/5260335624741136325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/5260335624741136325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/09/fall.html' title='Fall.'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-3966576666116137182</id><published>2009-09-18T11:30:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T11:47:25.784-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I hate you.</title><content type='html'>a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so fucking done.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-3966576666116137182?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/3966576666116137182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=3966576666116137182&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/3966576666116137182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/3966576666116137182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-hate-you.html' title='I hate you.'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-6560801550370520887</id><published>2009-08-20T15:53:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-20T16:36:40.585-04:00</updated><title type='text'>All I ever wanted...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;.. was a simple way to get over you.&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I didn't know whether or not what happens between us is coincidental, but what I do know is that you mean so much to me. Sometimes I really wish that I hadn't met you, that everything happened was just a bad dream. I've never been able to go a whole day without thinking about you, without aching a little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now you're sitting there, in someone else's arms, smiling with the most joy I've ever seen on your face. Something inside me sinks. I often wonder if I'm such a fool for focusing so much on figuring out how you feel about me and forgetting how much I am loved. I never really know why I'm always chasing after you, longing to be in your presence, to feel your affection, to know what it's like not being just a shadow in your life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying so hard to make things okay between us, to make things a little less painful for me. But it seems impossible. It seems as if you're always going to be the way you are, and I'm always going to be the only one trying. But I still love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"All I ever wanted... was you."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-6560801550370520887?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/6560801550370520887/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=6560801550370520887&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/6560801550370520887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/6560801550370520887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/08/all-i-ever-wanted.html' title='All I ever wanted...'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-8111299004171482089</id><published>2009-08-13T10:10:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-13T10:31:20.124-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for someone'/><title type='text'>The things I hate and miss....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Thức dậy vừa lúc nằng ùa vào phòng, len qua khe cửa sổ, sáng và đẹp. Vậy mà lòng chùn xuống. Trong thẩm sâu kí ức dậy lên, muốn sống lại thêm lẩn nữa buồi sáng đó, khi tỉnh giấc, ta thấy em, ở đó, thật hơn bao giờ hết, ngay cạnh ta.&lt;br /&gt;Lắm lúc tự hỏi mình sao vẫn mang hy vọng cho một thứ không thực?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;"Thoạt đến những âm vĩ cầm,&lt;br /&gt;Miết lên những miền đau thương..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;___________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I miss waking up next to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep telling myself that I can't miss you anymore, that I can't be sad anymore, but the more I tell myself those things, the more I miss you, and the more I am sad. I don't know why I am still holding on to what we almost, but never, had. I don't know why I keep wanting to re-live that morning waking up next to you, to see your face in the morning, still asleep. For some reason, I loved watching you sleep, it's so peaceful and relaxed. I don't even know why I'm writing all this out, as if it matters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some days, I can be perfectly happy without you, but other days, everything, just out of the sudden, reminds me of you. And that drives me crazy. The more I try not to think about you, the more my thoughts are filled with you. But I guess that's okay, and for some strange reason, it really is, or at least, it feels that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate not being able to be a part of your life.&lt;br /&gt;I hate that I'm not ever going to be.&lt;br /&gt;I hate that when I watch you sleep, all of my worries and fear just disappear.&lt;br /&gt;I hate the way you always say maybe, to everything.&lt;br /&gt;I hate that you love the ocean, because I love it.&lt;br /&gt;I hate that I think that you're perfect, even though you're the furthest thing away from perfection.&lt;br /&gt;I hate that you always know the right thing to say.&lt;br /&gt;I hate that you're so convincing at acting like you care, even though you never do.&lt;br /&gt;I hate that I'm still in love with you, even though that's the last thing I want.&lt;br /&gt;I hate that I love all the things I hate about you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-8111299004171482089?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/8111299004171482089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=8111299004171482089&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/8111299004171482089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/8111299004171482089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/08/you-things-i-hate-and-miss.html' title='The things I hate and miss....'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-463374070886427466</id><published>2009-08-04T16:42:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-09T23:07:41.129-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for someone'/><title type='text'>Because...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Because you are you,&lt;br /&gt;And I am me.&lt;br /&gt;Because you'll never be mine,&lt;br /&gt;And I've always been yours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because you never give a shit,&lt;br /&gt;And my best is never enough.&lt;br /&gt;Because your dreams are always about someone else,&lt;br /&gt;And mine know only of you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because your heart is so far out of reach,&lt;br /&gt;And my broken one belongs to you.&lt;br /&gt;Because your gaze never comes my way,&lt;br /&gt;And my eyes are always fixed on you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because you never gave us a chance,&lt;br /&gt;And I'm still hopelessly searching for one,&lt;br /&gt;Because I am a joke to you,&lt;br /&gt;And you are the world to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because nothing about me attracts you,&lt;br /&gt;And I adore everything about you.&lt;br /&gt;Because you don't even like me,&lt;br /&gt;And I'm in love with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Because sometimes,&lt;br /&gt;I just really wish things were different.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... and because of you,&lt;br /&gt;I lost myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-463374070886427466?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/463374070886427466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=463374070886427466&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/463374070886427466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/463374070886427466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/08/because.html' title='Because...'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-6070365499016114889</id><published>2009-08-03T23:48:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-03T23:55:11.956-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thơ'/><title type='text'>Sợ.</title><content type='html'>Ta sợ,&lt;br /&gt;Sợ một sớm mai, em sẽ không ở đó.&lt;br /&gt;Sợ trong một khoảng khắc, tim em sẽ không còn ta.&lt;br /&gt;Sợ em sẽ không đến.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ta sợ,&lt;br /&gt;Sợ khi chiều tàn, chỉ có ta và có hoàng hôn.&lt;br /&gt;Sợ lúc đêm xuống, không còn nhớ dáng em.&lt;br /&gt;Sợ em sẽ không đến.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ta sợ,&lt;br /&gt;Sợ rằng tương lai của ta không có em.&lt;br /&gt;Sợ lúc thức giấc, sẽ tìm hoài không thấy ánh mắt em.&lt;br /&gt;Sợ em sẽ không đến.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Và rồi,&lt;br /&gt;Em ra đi.&lt;br /&gt;Ta, kẻ bị bỏ lại, sợ,&lt;br /&gt;Sợ cho ta và cũng sợ cho em.&lt;br /&gt;Sợ trái tim ta vẫn hoài rướm máu.&lt;br /&gt;Và sợ em sẽ không tìm được ai yêu em nhiều hơn ta,&lt;br /&gt;Yêu em bằng tình yêu mà em đáng được nhận.&lt;br /&gt;_______________________________________&lt;br /&gt;Ta&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-6070365499016114889?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/6070365499016114889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=6070365499016114889&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/6070365499016114889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/6070365499016114889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/08/so.html' title='Sợ.'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-2982899097100624558</id><published>2009-08-02T00:22:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-04T00:10:08.378-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for someone'/><title type='text'>You.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I miss you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And even though I don't how things are or will be between us, I still miss you. A whole lot. I don't know what or how long it will take before I can forgive you, but that doesn't mean that I don't love you. Because I do, so much that it hurts. I think I am okay with just standing on the side watching you live your life. I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope you are happy and will be that way for a while. I really do, even if that means that will hurt me and I  will be devastated. I really want you to be happy. Because maybe, just maybe, your being happy would be the only chance I have at finding happiness for myself. I don't want to see you sad, because then, I would want to be there for you, and get close to you, and shatter to pieces all over again when you get better, and leave, like you always do. I'm hoping that in seeing you being happy, I will become resentful, and in turn, distant myself from you. Yes, the only chance for me to be happy is for me not to be with you. And you need to be happy for me to be able walk away. I don't know why, but that is just how it is for me. It just is. So from the bottom of my heart, I truly, more than anything, want you to be happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We both know that we could never be together, but..&lt;br /&gt;I love you, even though I really shouldn't....&lt;br /&gt;Even though I should hate you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;[p.s - I am so amazed that the moment you realize you love someone is the moment you truly wish him or her all the happiness in the world, even if you know that happiness will not be shared with you... and somehow, amazing enough, you're okay with that - as long as the one you love is happy. That, is when you know you truly love someone - and that is also how I know I truly love you...]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-2982899097100624558?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/2982899097100624558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=2982899097100624558&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/2982899097100624558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/2982899097100624558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/08/you.html' title='You.'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-8900057141507094661</id><published>2009-08-01T23:37:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-02T01:51:53.372-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for someone'/><title type='text'>"Cách xa đâu là lãng quên, để nhớ thương nhuộm hồng trái tim.."</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Vậy là hè cũng sắp hết rồi. Chuẩn bị cho một cái bắt đầu mới. Mấy ngày nay tấp tần chạy tới lui sắm đồ cho kí túc xá. Chừng mươi ngày nữa là chuyển qua đấy rồi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ừ, cũng chừng mươi ngày nữa là chia tay với một vài người mình không muốn xa. Họ đã dạy cho ta nhiều bài học mà chỉ có những người bạn thật sự. Họ kiên nhẫn và yêu thương. Người ta nói cuộc vui nào thì cũng có lúc tàn. Chắc vậy, đôi khi chia tay không hẳn là kết thúc phải không?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chốc nào đó nghĩ lại, giật mình nghiệm ra bây giờ bạn bè đứa nào cũng đi theo con đường riêng của nó. Cũng buồn chút, tủi chút. Có những người bạn ta lớn lên với ta, những người ta quen giữa chặng đường đi, và cũng có người ta chỉ gặp, chỉ nhìn thấy trong thoáng qua. Ừ, ai cũng có con đường riêng của mình.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mỗi một người bạn trong đời đều dạy cho ta một thứ gì đó. Có người dạy ta vô số thứ, nhưng cũng có người để lại vỏn vẹn một bài học. Nghĩ lại thì bài học tâm đắt nhất vẫn là về sự tha thứ. Lắm lúc mọi thứ bỗng trở nên một mớ hỗn độn, và ta quên rằng sự tha thứ quan trọng đến dường nào. Đôi khi chỉ cần một chút tha thứ, mọi thứ sẽ thay đổi hẳn. Chỉ có vậy, mà sao vẫn hay quên?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Có lẽ đó là một phần của sự lớn lên. Vì con người ta phải vấp ngã, mới đứng lên mà bước tiếp được phải không? Những lỗi lầm xảy ra, cốt là để ta học được điều gì đó mà phải không? Ừ, vậy mà sao có lần thấy cái giả phải trả đáng hơn bài học kia đến nhiều lần? Người ta nói học một lần mà nhớ đến trọn đời thì cũng rẻ mà sao ta thấy có nhiều bài học, không đáng chút nào.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Học tha thứ là vậy, nhưng sao có một người ta đến giờ này vẫn chưa thể tha thứ? Trong một khoảng khắc nào đó, ta vẫn không chắc đó là lỗi của họ, mà sao vẫn không tha thứ? Thôi thì quay lưng, thì bước đi, để quên, để tha thứ, và để có thể hy vọng vào một cái gì đó tốt hơn. Trong thẩm sâu, có lẽ sẽ không bao giờ quên được họ. Thôi, thì mọi thứ cũng đã qua rồi, cũng đã cách xa vài tháng rồi. Tự nhủ bản thân, có lẽ mình đã tha thứ. Có lẽ mình đã sẵn sàng để gặp lại họ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ừ, muốn cách xa là để quên, để bước đi, để không ngoáy lại, mà sao vẫn nhớ?&lt;br /&gt;Ừ, mà sao nhớ thương vẫn xé nát trái tim?&lt;br /&gt;Ừ, mà sao vẫn quay đầu lại.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-8900057141507094661?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/8900057141507094661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=8900057141507094661&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/8900057141507094661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/8900057141507094661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/08/cach-xa-au-la-lang-quen-e-nho-thuong.html' title='&quot;Cách xa đâu là lãng quên, để nhớ thương nhuộm hồng trái tim..&quot;'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-5108006823744553332</id><published>2009-07-15T13:19:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-18T13:50:52.398-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for me'/><title type='text'>And there we were...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;The preparation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I left the states not knowing what to expect. To be honest, at the time of leaving, all i wanted to do was just to get out of Knoxville and everyone else. All the things that has happened, all the drama, I just wanted a break.&lt;br /&gt;By the time I left, there was a hole in my heart. I was at that point in my life where everything seemed to be falling apart, where nothing is going right, where I feel like I don't belong and there isn't anything i can do about it. At that point, I just wanted to get away, to move on.&lt;br /&gt;I left with the hope that by the time i come back, I will be fine, I will be able to be happy without &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that person&lt;/span&gt; in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" &gt;The journey&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The first week there I was mostly with my family. My heart stopped swelling up. I still thought about that-certain-someone every now and then, but it was bearable.&lt;br /&gt;And then the real journey begins when summer camp with the kids started. At first, I hesitated to open my heart. It was as if i was afraid. And then it happened, the instant i heard little kids screaming my name, running towards me, grabbing onto me. They needed to be held, and I needed to be loved.&lt;br /&gt;It hit even harder when I got to work with the older kids. I got to talk to them, to share with them about my life, and theirs. It was then that I realized how good it feels opening up your heart and just let love do its magic. It was also when I realized that a piece of my heart is left there.&lt;br /&gt;The kids have taught me how to love, to open up my heart, to be selfless, to look with my eyes, but see with my heart. I left the states with a deep wound in my heart, waiting to be healed; and I returned with my heart filled with more love than ever. Maybe the time that i spent there isn't a very long period of time, but the effect that it has on me is going to be there for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;The departure&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I hate saying goodbye, I've always hated saying goodbye. I cried. Not because I don't know if I will ever see those faces again, nor because I was devastatingly sad, I cried because i was overwhelmed by the love that was in that place where we said goodbye. God placed in each of our hearts a special bond, a bond that when we left, we all knew that distance would only intensify the love we have for one another.&lt;br /&gt;It was hard saying goodbye, but it was easy knowing that a piece of our hearts will always belong to one another. And in saying goodbye, we found a hope, one that brings us joy, that reassures us that it doesn't matter if we will ever see each other again, we will always remember, love, and pray for each other. That was what mattered the most.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" &gt;The returning.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I came with the intentions of getting my heart healed, of having a good trip; but I returned knowing that it wasn't at all about me, or about getting my heart healed. It was about love, about the kids, and about experiencing God's amazing love. And fortunately enough, just in the midst of all that, my heart was healed, my soul was restored.&lt;br /&gt;I came back to my usual routine of life with a different attitude, with a different heart and mind. Maybe life is the same as it was when i left, but I am not. I no longer feel that I need to have &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;someone&lt;/span&gt; in order to be happy, or that I am not okay without &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that person&lt;/span&gt;. What I've learned along the way hasn't made me invincible, but what it does is that it makes me realize that there are and will be many sufferings, heartbreaks, and crappy situations, and that I will get my heart broken again and again, but I have to remember that time will pass, the pain will fade, and love will heal. Because &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;love never fails&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;p.s - and i would like to thank all those precious faces that I've met as well as those whose companies i delightfully enjoyed during the trip. =)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-5108006823744553332?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/5108006823744553332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=5108006823744553332&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/5108006823744553332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/5108006823744553332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/07/and-there-we-were.html' title='And there we were...'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-4340539565146841026</id><published>2009-06-03T20:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T20:14:22.478-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for someone'/><title type='text'>Viết cho nhau...</title><content type='html'>Ngày nắng, và ấm.&lt;br /&gt;Nhận ra rằng họ sẽ không bao giờ thuộc về ta.&lt;br /&gt;Đau, nhưng không buồn.&lt;br /&gt;Có lẽ số phận đã định đặt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hai con người, đã không, sẽ không, và mãi mãi vẫn không bao giờ thuộc về nhau,&lt;br /&gt;Nhưng có lẽ, trong một thoáng nào đó,&lt;br /&gt;Dù là mong manh, nhỏ nhoi, và ngắn ngủi.&lt;br /&gt;Họ đã tìm thấy nhau, đã hiểu nhau, và đã ở bên nhau.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ngắn, nhưng nhớ hoài.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vẫn nuôi cái hy vọng rằng,&lt;br /&gt;Một ngày kia, cảm giác ấy sẽ trở lại, dù trong thoáng giây, dù ngắn thôi, dù muộn màng,&lt;br /&gt;Và dù trong những lời nói dối.&lt;br /&gt;Thà vậy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Có lẽ một phút giây hạnh phúc, dẫu là gian dối,&lt;br /&gt;Để rồi đau đớn tột cùng,&lt;br /&gt;Còn hơn là không chút hạnh phúc,&lt;br /&gt;Mà vẫn đau.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phải, không ai muốn mình mãi chỉ đứng bên cạnh đời người mình yêu thương.&lt;br /&gt;Nhưng có người vẫn chọn lựa bên cạnh đời người yêu dấu, còn hơn là hoàn toàn vắng mặt.&lt;br /&gt;Phải chăng,&lt;br /&gt;Thà sống trong đau đớn, thà bị giam cầm trong cái nhà tù của cảm xúc kia,&lt;br /&gt;Còn hơn là sống tự do, mà mất người yêu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ta không thể có người, nhưng cũng không để mất người.&lt;br /&gt;Vẫn cố níu lại, dù giữa hai người, chỉ là một sợi chỉ nối kết.&lt;br /&gt;Dù ngón tay đã rướm máu,&lt;br /&gt;Dù trái tim đã tàn tật.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lại nghe giọng nói người,&lt;br /&gt;Lại nhói lên.&lt;br /&gt;Cảm giác chỉ được đứng bên đời người lại lần nữa ứa lên cơn đau.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nghẹn.&lt;br /&gt;Cổ họng đắng.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Muốn khóc, nhưng không thể.&lt;br /&gt;Không trước mặt người.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Một lần nào đó, người thấy ta, hiểu ta.&lt;br /&gt;Một vết cứa sâu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Có lẽ người hiểu,&lt;br /&gt;Có lẽ người chưa từng hiểu,&lt;br /&gt;Cũng có lẽ người không muốn hiểu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ta là người thua cuộc.&lt;br /&gt;Ta là tên tuyệt vọng.&lt;br /&gt;Vậy, mà vẫn chưa chấp nhận sự thật.&lt;br /&gt;Vậy, mà nửa trái tim ta vẫn thuộc về người.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tưởng, mơ, ước, hy vọng, mong..&lt;br /&gt;Thứ nào cũng vậy.&lt;br /&gt;Cũng không dẫn đến yêu thương.&lt;br /&gt;Bến bờ hạnh phúc không còn chỗ đậu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lênh đênh.&lt;br /&gt;Một mình.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nhớ người? Có.&lt;br /&gt;Yêu người? Có.&lt;br /&gt;Mong cho người hạnh phúc? Có.&lt;br /&gt;Mong cho người hạnh phúc bên một ai khác hơn ta? Không.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phải, ta là kẻ ích kỉ. Thì sao?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dù gì, dẫu gì,&lt;br /&gt;Người vẫn không thuộc về ta.&lt;br /&gt;Dù gì, dẫu gì,&lt;br /&gt;Ta cũng đã, đang, và sẽ yêu người.&lt;br /&gt;Dù gì, dẫu gì,&lt;br /&gt;Ta cũng đã từng yêu một người.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... Được gì cho bản thân?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Không Mưa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt; __________________________&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;wbr&gt;&lt;span class="word_break"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Ta&lt;br /&gt;11:30am&lt;br /&gt;06.03.09&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-4340539565146841026?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/4340539565146841026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=4340539565146841026&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/4340539565146841026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/4340539565146841026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/06/viet-cho-nhau.html' title='Viết cho nhau...'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-7896672184839631775</id><published>2009-05-31T23:06:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T23:09:23.162-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lượm cho mình'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thơ'/><title type='text'>Còn biết bao nhiêu lần trong đời sẽ gặp lại nhau nữa đây?</title><content type='html'>Đó là lần đầu tiên trong đời ta cúi ,&lt;br /&gt;Khi nhìn thấy người bước đi bên cạnh người không phải ta mà là một người khác...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Để biết trái tim từ đó mất đi khái niệm về ánh sáng.&lt;br /&gt;Để biết cuối cùng cũng phải nhường bờ vai kia cho một ai bước đến,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Để biết khi tung đồng xu lên là phải chọn làm người thua trước,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; Để biết không có nỗi đau nào là cân đong đo đếm được.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ngày hạnh phúc bỏ rơi...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chúng ta đã từng sợ không nắm giữ được một quãng đời,&lt;br /&gt;Nên nếu muốn khóc thì đừng khóc,&lt;br /&gt;Nên nếu người muốn gào lên thì hãy cắn vào tay ta để sẻ chia những hằn học,&lt;br /&gt;Nên nếu người hằng đêm chong mắt tìm một ngôi sao băng vụt sáng,&lt;br /&gt;Thì cứ tin qua từng đêm trắng....&lt;br /&gt;(rồi sẽ tìm thấy điều mình cần...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nhưng người đã ngoảnh mặt đi khi ánh mắt chưa kịp chạm vào lãng quên,&lt;br /&gt;Cho người bước đi bên cạnh người nhoẻn miệng cười hạnh phúc,&lt;br /&gt;Cho những trắc trở bỏ lại hết cùng một quãng đời đau đớn,&lt;br /&gt;Cho một gương mặt thương yêu vùi thật sâu dưới từng lớp cát,&lt;br /&gt;Để sống với những gì mình đang nắm giữ trong tay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chúng ta đã từng tuyệt vọng đến mức sợ cả những tiếng cười,&lt;br /&gt;Đến mức tự hỏi bản thân cần chi phải sống,&lt;br /&gt;Đến mức nhìn một chiếc lá rơi mà cũng ứa nước mắt,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Đến mức đột nhiên muốn chưa hề gặp nhau trong một phần ký ức.&lt;br /&gt;Có lẽ người sẽ vui...?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Người đã bước đi với lựa chọn phó mặc mình cho cuộc đời,&lt;br /&gt;Phó mặc mùa đông ở trong tim vĩnh viễn.&lt;br /&gt;Phó mặc những giấc mơ chỉ luôn thấy mình chạy trốn.&lt;br /&gt;Phó mặc mái tóc từ nay chỉ còn tự mình chải buộc.&lt;br /&gt;Phó mặc những ngày nóng sốt.&lt;br /&gt;Nằm và nhớ một đôi tay...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Đó là lần đầu tiên trong đời ta cúi mặt,&lt;br /&gt;Còn hơn những gì có thể gọi tên là đắng cay...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Chúng ta đi qua nhau như những người xa lạ,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Người quay đi để ngăn trái tim mình hóa đá.&lt;br /&gt;Ta cắn răng để giữ nước mắt mình không thể...&lt;br /&gt;Không ai giống như ai?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Còn biết bao nhiêu lần trong đời sẽ gặp lại nhau nữa đây?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; - by NPV&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-7896672184839631775?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/7896672184839631775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=7896672184839631775&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/7896672184839631775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/7896672184839631775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/05/con-biet-bao-nhieu-lan-trong-oi-se-gap.html' title='Còn biết bao nhiêu lần trong đời sẽ gặp lại nhau nữa đây?'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-6430069588276596310</id><published>2009-05-27T08:55:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-27T09:09:45.306-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Keep on dreamin'</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"This is your life, and today is all you've got now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And today is all you ever have..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A friend once told me, memories are something you look at, not something you carry with. And  for the longest time, I've been carrying with me a bunch of unnecessary regrets and feelings. For this past year, life certainly hasn't turned out the way i imagined, or hoped, it to. But through all that, I became a stronger person, not exactly invincible, but stronger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has indeed taken me a long time, but I am finally starting to pull myself back up, and put the pieces back together, on my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've realized that because the world is so cruel, I need to, no, have to be a dreamer. I had many dreams and fantasies, and I gave them up only because one person disappointed me. That won't happen again. I know now to nourish and joy on my dreams and hopes. I know now that when a certain thing doesn't happen the way you wanted, or dreamed, doesn't mean that everything also won't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I was hurt, i thought i would shut myself out - to protect myself from getting hurt again. But i've learned to say "so what?" Granted, if i close myself up, i would be able to save myself from being hurt as badly, but at the same time, doing so would also limit myself from experiencing what it is to love fully and unconditionally. And I will not give that up just because i fear that the next person i'm with will hurt me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was born a dreamer, and always will be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right; font-style: italic;"&gt;"This is your life, is it everything you dreamed it would be,&lt;br /&gt;when the world was younger, and you had everything to lose..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-6430069588276596310?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/6430069588276596310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=6430069588276596310&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/6430069588276596310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/6430069588276596310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/05/keep-on-dreamin.html' title='Keep on dreamin&apos;'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-666413858295399438</id><published>2009-05-11T23:00:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T09:24:36.240-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for me'/><title type='text'>Last day.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;So that was it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was the last day of high school. Even though I have been counting down till the finishing day, it feels weird to actually be leaving. As much as school sucks, it does, however, hold some of the greatest memories I've had. It is the place where I have met so many incredible people, whom i love and adore, where I have grown and learned so many things from, where I have developed many deep relationships. I would never trade that experience for anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've always hated saying good-bye. Granted, I am super stoked about college, but that does not mean I won't miss high school. All the drama, laughter, heartbreaks, and gossip.. everything that has taken part in molding me into the person that i am today - i am going to miss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today marks the beginning of a whole new chapter, of an exciting and adventurous summer. It also marks the end of a great four years, of many great memories...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And tonight, I am just going to sit still for a moment, to let everything sink in - everything that I've gone through, everything that has built me up and broken me down, everything that i have learned.. just everything that i can think of, everything that has so far been written in my story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's to the end of this chapter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-666413858295399438?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/666413858295399438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=666413858295399438&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/666413858295399438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/666413858295399438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/05/last-day.html' title='Last day.'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-3400660662022665956</id><published>2009-05-10T07:31:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-23T22:05:55.504-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for someone'/><title type='text'>Je ne manque pas des bonnes raisons pour t'aimer.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Summer is finally back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Summer means a fresh start.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Summer means adventures with the people i love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Summer means dancing, singing, and kissing in the rain.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Summer means late-night movies and waffle house at 2am&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Summer means leaving my old self behind and getting ready for changes to set in.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I am almost finished with high school. It has been quite the journey, one with much tears and laughter, heartbreaks and joy... I am ready for summer to come again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meaning, i'm ready to be my own person, to be free of you. Finally, i've made it to the point where it doesn't bother me anymore that I don't mean anything to you. I've taken so many things for granted, i've taken many people who love me for granted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've struggled so hard trying to make a difference in your life. It's taken me this long, but finally i've realized that i can't make a difference in your life, and that's okay, too. We are friends, and that's all there is to it. As I've said before, i'm done caring. That doesn't mean i will treat you as if we're strangers. It merely means that we're just two people who happen to cross paths, and that's all there is to it. We'd pass by each other and we'd say hello, but we're never going to be a part of each other's life. We're too different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can finally look back at everything and smile. I finally realized that it wasn't the timing that went wrong, it was just that we were too different. I finally am able to put my feelings for you to rest. I've been carrying those memories with me for too long. Memories are meant to be looked at, not to be carried with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't lack reasons to love you. In fact, I don't need to have reasons to love you. I love you, but that doesn't mean that you will ever become a part of my life. You might affect my emotions greatly, but with time, that will change. I now know who matter, and who don't. You're not one of those that do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"Leaving only feels good when you leave something important behind, something that matters to you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Summer also means the last three months&lt;br /&gt;i get to share with a few of those i love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Summer also means taking the risk&lt;br /&gt;of having my heart broken again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-3400660662022665956?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/3400660662022665956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=3400660662022665956&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/3400660662022665956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/3400660662022665956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/05/je-ne-manque-pas-des-bonnes-raisons.html' title='Je ne manque pas des bonnes raisons pour t&apos;aimer.'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-3298846526449222014</id><published>2009-05-03T22:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-03T22:47:05.197-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Because these things will change.</title><content type='html'>and i have to believe that they will.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-3298846526449222014?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/3298846526449222014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=3298846526449222014&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/3298846526449222014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/3298846526449222014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/05/because-these-things-will-change.html' title='Because these things will change.'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-5702555647927869974</id><published>2009-04-25T22:33:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T19:57:04.968-04:00</updated><title type='text'>And so it is.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-style: italic;"&gt;"And maybe a happy ending,&lt;br /&gt;maybe... it's you, on your own, picking up the pieces and starting over, freeing yourself up for something better in the future. Maybe the happy ending is... just... moving on. Or maybe the happy ending is this, knowing after all the unreturned phone calls, text messages, broken-hearts, through the blunders and misread signals, through all the pain and embarrassment, you never gave up hope."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-5702555647927869974?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/5702555647927869974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=5702555647927869974&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/5702555647927869974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/5702555647927869974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/04/and-so-it-is.html' title='And so it is.'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-5961603772922125774</id><published>2009-04-10T22:00:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-11T18:28:47.390-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for someone'/><title type='text'>Kí ức</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;J đến bên đời thật nhẹ. Và J cũng ra đi thật nhẹ. Nhưng những thứ J để lại, không có gì là nhẹ nhàng cả. Nhiều lúc T tự hỏi mình đã làm cái gì sai, để nhưng khoảng khắc đẹp nhất mà hai đứa có chỉ tồn tại trong thoáng giây, và rồi tan biến như thể chúng chưa bao giờ xảy ra.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nhiều lúc T mong những khoảng khắc ấy được dài hơn một chút, sâu hơn một chút, và rồi khi mơ ước như vậy, T lại tự gửi bản thân vào vùng sau kí ức. Kí ức, nơi T có thể tìm cho mình một chút ấm áp nào đó, và cũng đồng thời là nơi cho T những khoảng khắc đau đớn nhất.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;T biết, chuyện xảy ra không phải lỗi của ai cả, không phải T, cũng không phải J, chỉ là số phận? Đôi khi T thật sự muốn mình quay trở về như ngày xưa, khi mình mới gặp nhau, quen nhau, khi tụi mình còn là bạn bè. Đôi lúc T không biết mình đúng hay sai khi đã đánh chấp cái tình bạn đó để đổi lấy một vài khoảng khắc ấm áp, để rồi J lại ra đi, và để rồi chúng mình không thể quay lại ngày xưa nữa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;T đã nói là không cho phép bản thân mình buồn về J nữa rồi, nhưng hôm nay, T chợt về thăm lại kí ức ngày xưa, và một chút gì đó trong T lại nhói lên.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;Tại sao một kí ức đẹp đến vậy lại có thể đau đớn đến như thế?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-5961603772922125774?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/5961603772922125774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=5961603772922125774&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/5961603772922125774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/5961603772922125774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/04/ki-uc.html' title='Kí ức'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-3281058423479966347</id><published>2009-04-04T08:30:00.011-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T22:16:43.946-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for someone'/><title type='text'>To the one who should have loved me,</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;... from the one you could've had.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right; font-weight: bold;"&gt;11:00PM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I was cursing your name feeling like you manipulated me. I've never felt so angry in my life. I screamed. I hated everything and everyone. I was furious at how life is so unfair. You know where my weakness is, and you pushed it, so that you can turn things back on me, so that you can make me feel guilty for being right. I actually, for once, thought that you were good, that you actually have feelings. But you don't.&lt;br /&gt;You're not sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right; font-weight: bold;"&gt;11:49PM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I cried myself to sleep. I've never cried so much in the past five years. It wasn't my intention to let you have so much power over my emotions, nor was it to allow myself to trust you (just so that you can let me down.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;Looking so innocent, I might believe you if i didn't know. Could've loved you all my life, if you hadn't let me waited in the cold. You have your share of secrets, and i'm tired of being the last one to know. And now you're asking me to listen, cause it's worked each time before.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;04:34AM&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I saw you in my dream tonight, again. I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. I cried again, I cursed your name, again. The stinging pain I once felt came back and hit me, a thousand times harder. I couldn't breath. Tears were streaming down as if they had never before.&lt;br /&gt;Then i laughed. I realized what a fool I was for believing in people, for believing that the world is a good place and people actually care about one another. No, all I've had is myself, and that is all I'm ever going to have. Somehow i bought into the delusion that there is such thing as love, that i don't have to be alone. I cried again, and then passed out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;08:17AM&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The early sun woke me up. I suddenly felt nothing at all. The days of being a hopeless romantic and a dreamer were over. It was time for me to grow up. I had to grow up, I had to be realistic, I had to stop myself from getting hurt all over again. Fear has won.&lt;br /&gt;Just then, like a splash of ice-cold water, the pain hit again. It was the last time I was to allow myself to feel it. I cried; and it was the last time i let myself cried over you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;8:47AM&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;You are nothing to me now. No one is anything to me now. All I have is myself, thanks to you, i've learned. Everything I've believed in my whole life, does nothing except letting me down. I've had my share of living outside myself, of getting hurt, of having people telling me they love me, and then shoot me down. Maybe it is, after all, better to turn away from the best, so that i won't have to face the worst.&lt;br /&gt;Feelings are, after all, better kept private.&lt;br /&gt;Time to put on a fake smile and greet the world - hello, new day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I take a step back, let you go. Told you i'm not bulletproof, now you know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-3281058423479966347?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/3281058423479966347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=3281058423479966347&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/3281058423479966347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/3281058423479966347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/04/to-one-who-should-have-loved-me.html' title='To the one who should have loved me,'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-360792280093640378</id><published>2009-03-22T22:58:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T23:08:34.719-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='quotes'/><title type='text'>On</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;blockquote style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Watching you walk out of my life does not make me bitter or cynical about love. But rather makes me realize that if I wanted so much to be with the wrong person how beautiful it will be when the right one comes along."&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;am&lt;/span&gt; moving on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-360792280093640378?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/360792280093640378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=360792280093640378&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/360792280093640378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/360792280093640378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/03/on.html' title='On'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-3465342028612403860</id><published>2009-03-08T15:55:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T22:17:23.384-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for someone'/><title type='text'>Companions.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"And it came to me then. That we were wonderful traveling companions but in the end no more than lonely lumps of metal in their own separate orbits. From far off they look like beautiful shooting stars, but in reality they're nothing more than prisons, where each of us is locked up alone, going nowhere. When the orbits of these two satellites of ours happened to cross paths, we could be together. Maybe even open our hearts to each other. But that was only for the briefest moment. In the next instant we'd be in absolute solitude. Until we burned up and became nothing."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;In the instant that we opened our hearts to each other, I felt as if i could see you, not the you that you had always pretended to be, but the real you; and you looked like Christmas morning. At that moment, a part of me became yours. I had wondered many times, that the you I once saw, the you who looked like Christmas morning, was real, or was it merely a figment of my imagination?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then i realized that i became so in love with not you, but with the idea of you, of who i imagined you to be. I foolishly opened myself up, for the first time, just so that you could shoot me down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spring, summer, and autumn all came and went, and then winter arrived, burying what we had deep down in the snow, the cold, soulless snow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was devastated. But there was still that hope inside me, pulling me back every time i strayed a little too far from you. It was a hope that i could make the real you float to the surface, passed all the lies and misunderstandings, all the drama and games. It was also the hope that you really cared about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It really didn't matter how hard i tried, did it? Over and over again, i failed. Yet that tiny ray of hope kept pulling myself back up every time, just so that i could try, and fail, again. Regardless of how exhausted and tired i became, of how hard i tried, and of how much i cared about you, nothing i did made a difference. But i still kept on trying. I just couldn't give up on you. You meant so much to me. So much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was then. Now,&lt;br /&gt;We are no longer the people we once were, you and i.&lt;br /&gt;I know that you can never change, that the you i have once seen- the Christmas morning you- has never existed but in my own little world. I have finally understood that whether or not you care about me does not make me feel any better, it does not make me a better person. I realize that you are not me, that we don't even speak the same language, let alone understand each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not giving up on you, but I am letting go of you. I have tried, with every single fiber inside me, to know you, to be different than all those who have given up on you, to just genuinely care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sorry for asking you about your life because i care too much.&lt;br /&gt;I am sorry for wanting to be a part of your life.&lt;br /&gt;I am sorry for just being there for you, when you didn't need me to.&lt;br /&gt;I am sorry for all the times I made you upset or annoyed you for asking so many questions just to see if you are alright.&lt;br /&gt;And i am sorry... for wanting to be your friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;We were, after all, just traveling companions. Wonderful traveling companions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. - I will miss you. And there will always be a place for you in my heart. Always.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-3465342028612403860?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/3465342028612403860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=3465342028612403860&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/3465342028612403860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/3465342028612403860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/03/unfinished.html' title='Companions.'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-4837739573079638686</id><published>2009-02-14T11:37:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-14T11:39:11.377-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Valentines</title><content type='html'>Place-holder.&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ngọt hay đắng,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Trong cuộc đời mưa nắng,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ta luôn cười trong hạnh phúc xưa tuyệt vời...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-4837739573079638686?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/4837739573079638686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=4837739573079638686&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/4837739573079638686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/4837739573079638686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/02/valentines.html' title='Valentines'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-8293222981249350601</id><published>2009-02-12T20:34:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T22:17:28.983-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for someone'/><title type='text'>You can skyrocket away from me...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right; font-style: italic;"&gt;You can sky rocket away from me&lt;br /&gt;And never come back if you find another galaxy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Once again, i'm writing something for you. (Only if you'll ever read any of it lol)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've always wonder what it is about you that keeps me constantly thinking of you. Whether or not I want it, you always seem to find your way into my thoughts, and somehow, I am okay with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like I am almost out of words to write about you. It is not so surprising that you are the one person that I have written about the most.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not sure how many more days will go by before I stop thinking about you as much as I always have, and still do. I've stopped looking at the thoughts of you with repugnance, but rather apathy (or as close to it as I force myself to.) Often, it is easy for me to let go of things - as big of a hopeless romantic as I am, it is rather ironic for me to let things go so easily. But with you, everything is different. With you, I care, so much more than I should, and I still do, with no regrets whatsoever. I never quite understood the significance of the role you play in my life until last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What i have learned from you is so much more than what anyone has ever taught me. I learned to love, to hurt, to forgive, and to look pass the surface of things. There was a point in time when I know that you were there, really there, with me (maybe not as a romantic lover but as a genuine friend.) It was probably my fault for not grasping the opportunity when it came by, and there is not a single day that I don't think of how I didn't reach out to you when I could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But whatever, the past is, after all, the past, right? I honestly can now say that I am happy for you, and that I truly want you to become  a better person, not for me, but for everyone that loves you and cares about you. I feel like you know better than anyone what the most important things in life are. I could be wrong, but every now and then, I feel like I understand you, as if I can see you from the inside, the genuine, loving self of yours -- one that is buried too deep within for anyone to see. I know it is there, and I know one day, it will surface and make you the best to your potential.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I care about you and I want you, I really do, to be in my life. Somehow, I seem to find selflessness in the midst of your selfishness. Maybe I am delusional, crazy, or whatever, but this life is mine to make and I will indeed make the best out of it. And with that in my mind, I want you to be a part of my life. =) Say yes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, you can skyrocket away to another galaxy, and never come back, but wherever you are, just know that there is always a place for you in this heart of mine. Always.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Just leave me your stardust to remember you by... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-8293222981249350601?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/8293222981249350601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=8293222981249350601&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/8293222981249350601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/8293222981249350601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/02/you-can-skyrocket-away-from-me.html' title='You can skyrocket away from me...'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-7782544264657111673</id><published>2009-01-27T21:49:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T15:53:13.142-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for someone'/><title type='text'>Baobab</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Il y avait des graines terribles sur la planète du petit prince... c'étaient les graines de baobabs. Le sol de la planète en était infesté. Or un baobab, si l'on s'y prend trop tard, on ne peut jamais plus s'en débarasser. Il encombre toute la planète. Il la perfore de ses racines. Et si la planète est trop petite, et si les baobabs sont trop nombreux, ils la font éclater."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(There were terrible seeds on the little prince's planet... they were baobab seeds. The planet's soil was infested with them. Now, a baobab, if you set about it too late, you can never get rid of it. It takes up the whole planet. It pierces it with its roots. And if the planet is too small, and if there are too many baobabs, they will make it burst..)&lt;/blockquote&gt;________________________&lt;br /&gt;I am not unlike the planet of the little prince. I can burst any second now, as the baobabs have planted its root deep within my soil. What do I do now?&lt;br /&gt;I took a trip back to memory lane, to the night that it all started (little did i know, i was about to be chasing pavements for the longest time.) Everything is still as vivid in my memory as if I am watching a movie.&lt;br /&gt;When you put your arm around me and we fell asleep together. And all of the sudden, in the midst of all confusions and chaos, I felt a sense of security--one i had never felt before. It was when the seeds first came about onto my empty planet -- you, the seeds. All those times we spent together, all the places we went, I still remember every single one of them--it's sort of like one of those things that you just unconsciously remember, one of those things that stay in your mind whether you like it or not. One time, you told me you would be there for me no matter what, and that I am one of the few people that you will never judge... Silly me for believing in everything you said.&lt;br /&gt;I am ready to burst. (or, who knows, maybe I already have)&lt;br /&gt;I am not scared of bursting. Because I know that after I burst, there will be something new. All of the lies and betrayals that covered the planet will be shattered into pieces as the planet itself burst into dust. A new life will start. A new hope will spark in midst of all destruction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"I reckon it's again my turn, to win some or learn some."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-7782544264657111673?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/7782544264657111673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=7782544264657111673&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/7782544264657111673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/7782544264657111673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/01/baobab.html' title='Baobab'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-1150134527820496382</id><published>2009-01-25T00:16:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T15:51:07.893-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for me'/><title type='text'>Vertigo</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"You never find yourself until you face the truth."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------&lt;br /&gt;What is the truth?&lt;br /&gt;Have I found myself or have I just found the ideology of what I want myself to be?&lt;br /&gt;--------&lt;br /&gt;I know what needs to be done, but I am not strong enough to do it.&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, the things that seem to be the littlest of all become unbearable.&lt;br /&gt;I feel the weight of the not-too-long-ago past pressing against my chest, and consequently, I just wish everything just all together dissolved into the air, which is swallowing myself into its thick, solidified state of being.&lt;br /&gt;--------&lt;br /&gt;I can't face the truth not because it is unbearable, but because it is unstable.&lt;br /&gt;The definition of truth itself is relative.&lt;br /&gt;After all the lies are stripped away, what is left? The truth? or more lies?&lt;br /&gt;The fundamental purpose of a lie is to protect the truth, why then, would people not want to protect what is true? Isn't that what all of us are supposed to do?&lt;br /&gt;We lie because we want to stop people from invading our own very truth--one that is pure and simple in our own term, because we're afraid that the intruder would taint our truth, and thus redefine the meaning of our lives.&lt;br /&gt;--------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Be ready to surrender yourself for what you could become."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------&lt;br /&gt;What if the thing that you were to become is indeed not who you are, or ever were?&lt;br /&gt;--------&lt;br /&gt;What if, it is indeed better off for you to live with the lies that define you, or is it better to risks letting others tainting your truth?&lt;br /&gt;--------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I don't want to face the truth.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I've found what I've been searching for.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe.. not.&lt;br /&gt;--------&lt;br /&gt;And then it is gone. gone. gone. everything, gone.&lt;br /&gt;--------&lt;br /&gt;Maybe life is how it should be.&lt;br /&gt;Because it can't be any different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-1150134527820496382?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/1150134527820496382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=1150134527820496382&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/1150134527820496382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/1150134527820496382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/01/vertigo.html' title='Vertigo'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-3962875359312195966</id><published>2009-01-21T20:53:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T22:06:23.970-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lượm cho mình'/><title type='text'>Little Person.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;".. and somewhere, maybe someday,&lt;br /&gt;maybe somewhere far away.&lt;br /&gt;i will find a second little person&lt;br /&gt;who will look at me and say,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'i know you,&lt;br /&gt;you're the one i've waited for.&lt;br /&gt;let's have some fun...'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object width="300" height="185"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/IA_ubhYgjAc&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;i know="" you="" re="" the="" one="" i="" ve="" waited="" let="" s="" have="" some=""&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/IA_ubhYgjAc&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="300" height="185"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-3962875359312195966?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/3962875359312195966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=3962875359312195966&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/3962875359312195966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/3962875359312195966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/01/little-person.html' title='Little Person.'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-8581102613878442020</id><published>2009-01-13T21:56:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T21:26:14.490-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='film'/><title type='text'>Revolutionary Road</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2FIhE3vBXpE/SW1XDh39-uI/AAAAAAAAAI8/qNx9UnPKOtQ/s1600-h/2869537333_4867bd7640.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 215px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2FIhE3vBXpE/SW1XDh39-uI/AAAAAAAAAI8/qNx9UnPKOtQ/s320/2869537333_4867bd7640.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290980855374543586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;“people don't forget the truth,&lt;br /&gt;they just get better at lying.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-8581102613878442020?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/8581102613878442020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=8581102613878442020&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/8581102613878442020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/8581102613878442020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2009/01/revolutionary-road.html' title='Revolutionary Road'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2FIhE3vBXpE/SW1XDh39-uI/AAAAAAAAAI8/qNx9UnPKOtQ/s72-c/2869537333_4867bd7640.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-6995625918349362715</id><published>2008-12-31T01:02:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T15:51:11.975-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for me'/><title type='text'>2008 in retrospect.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;People.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is quite fascinating watching friendships starting, growing, and well, dying. For some reason, i find the value of friendships quite high on my personal chart of moral aspects. There are times when, now looking back, I could not have survived had it not been for my amazing friends. Even though some unfortunate events have found their way into my life, I would not want anything to happen any differently.&lt;br /&gt;They say we often spend too much time grieving upon the closed doors and, consequently, fail to see the ones that have just opened. For me, 2008 has definitely been a year of many opened doors that led to great friendships with incredible people.  People come and go. Some stay, but very few. I've made countless encounters with people whose paths only crossed mine for only a brief moment, and yet leaving myself never the same. I have a habit of spending so much time grieving upon disappointed relationships, and through which I have learned to be more accepting. I learned that sometimes, relationships fail simply because they are done playing their roles in my life. It is not me, or the other person, to blame; it is no one to blame. I also learned that sometimes, certain things are just meant to be broken, and in trying to put the pieces back together, all i am really doing is hurting myself... Yes, people come and go. But I hope that these people whom i have encountered and developed deep, personal relationships with, will be the few that would still remain in my life as time passes by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Self.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have gone through more changes in these past twelve months than I have my whole life, both emotionally and physically. As I grow everyday, i learn to become more true to myself and what i want. I no longer pay much attention to what everyone thinks about me. The only opinions that actually matter are the ones coming from the people that i actually care about.&lt;br /&gt;I learned that in order to make other people happy, I have to make myself happy first. Another thing that I've seen changed is the way i open up to people. Over the summer, I started opening myself -- my true self, that is, up to a few people. I started to learn to trust people. I will admit that there have been moments where a certain somebody failed my trust. Those were bad times, but I am glad they happened because it is from moments like those that i learn to realize and appreciate who my true friends are. 2008 was a year of surprises. I did certain things that I thought I never in my life would do. It was also a year of discoveries; I discover one thing after another from a failure to the next... but most importantly, I started to discover my own self, who I really am. And right now, I never feel more true to myself my whole life.&lt;br /&gt;And that, I think, is what life is all about -- being true to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Relationship&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2008 was also the year in which I hit both the bottom and top of emotions. There have been moments where I feel like all i want to do is giving up. But i get stronger and stronger after each of those times -- what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger, right?&lt;br /&gt;During this past year, i met a quite special person, who by far, has had the most power over my emotions... ever. Things did not worked out the way I wanted it to be; however, as painful as the experience was, I was able to learn so many things from it. I learned to trust myself more, I learned to be more accepting, and I learned that sometimes, I just have to trust in the future, in the beauty of love and, most of all, in the power I have within.&lt;br /&gt;As a new year resolution for 2008, i've decided to be done with it. With everything that is holding me back.&lt;br /&gt;New Year. New Me.&lt;br /&gt;Everything happens for a reason, and sometimes we just don't know what that reason is. But one thing I do know is that, if those who hurt us can live happily, then so can we--no, so &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;will &lt;/span&gt;we.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-6995625918349362715?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/6995625918349362715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=6995625918349362715&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/6995625918349362715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/6995625918349362715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2008/12/place-holder.html' title='2008 in retrospect.'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-7719149432112098683</id><published>2008-12-13T22:44:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T22:17:33.209-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for someone'/><title type='text'>The uncertainty of promises.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right; font-style: italic;"&gt;You broke your promises.&lt;br /&gt;You lied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Promises are frail, so frail that often they become lies. I think all of us have, at least once in our lives, broken a promise. I've always wondered, are promises broken simply because we, the promise makers, have forgotten about them; or is it because we pretend to forget about it for we are not capable of carrying on what was promised?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to have a habit of promising everything, to everyone. I never really fully understood the meaning of a promise. I often thought that promises are just a way of assuring someone that you will try your best to make something happen... and every time i didn't live up to what I have promised, I always used the excuse that life is full of uncertainties, and thus one can never be sure of anything, including promises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are times we make promises that we meant, but there are also times, when we make the promises that we know we will break. Why is that? Is it because we're afraid that, by not making the promise, we will shut down others' hopes? (and instead give them false hope - at least for the time being..) Or is it because we just simply don't care enough about the ones whom we made the promise to?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I once was promised something by a friend. I'm not sure if whatever I was promised will happen. It used to bother me.. but now, I'm not so sure if I care whether or not my friend keeps that promise anymore. Maybe because I no longer care about that person?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it that the one making the promise always get to decide? What about those who were promised to? What happens to them? Do they have a say in the matter? Guess not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right; font-style: italic;"&gt;Yes, for every choice, there is a consequence.&lt;br /&gt;But why did one have to suffer even though he never had a choice?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-7719149432112098683?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/7719149432112098683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=7719149432112098683&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/7719149432112098683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/7719149432112098683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2008/12/uncertainty-of-promises.html' title='The uncertainty of promises.'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-6126857091650875822</id><published>2008-11-26T22:33:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T15:53:02.782-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for someone'/><title type='text'>Ce N'est Pas Toi.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ce n'est pas toi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ce n'a jamais été toi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[It is not you.&lt;br /&gt;It was never you.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;A reflection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever since the beginning of this - whatever this was, or is - I never would have thought that this would have such significance over my life, who I was to become, who I have become, and who I am.  I am neither bitter, angry, nor upset. I was, but no longer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At last, I am ready for something new to begin. Your chapter in my life has not necessarily ended yet (and I know that every now and then, the reminiscence and thought of you-at-a-certain-point-in-my-life will come back and haunt me.) I have spent way too much time letting go, or actually, holding onto something that was never there. Everything was simply a very vivid daydream, a figment of my very own imagination.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[I was never in love with you, but rather my reflection off of you.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went out today for some ice cream, and I saw a couple walking in the place, they looked happy.  One person opened the door for the other, and they exchanged the sweetest eye contact[and I could tell that their eyes had indeed, spoken to each other more than words could ever express.]  They shared an unspoken bond, a pre-established connection, (one that you and I can, or will, never be able to have.) That was what I wanted, and that was the moment I realized that you can never give me that, nor would you ever be able to, that I don't want any of you passed the surface [shallow of me, i know.] and that was also when the thought-of-you-with-someone-else stopped bothering me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But don't get me wrong. I am lucky to have you as a friend, and there were times when I wanted to be more than just friends [those were the times at which I let the fear of loneliness and the desire of having someone there for me completely took over everything inside me.] I envy the great person that you are, the potential that you have, and the way good things always happen to you. [Jealousy is an ugly, ugly thing, is it not? Shame on me.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You probably will not ever read this, but I just want to say [or write] it out.. I love you kid. It's not that I am in love with you, because I am not. But just simple love, from one person to the other. [And when you love someone, you care, sometimes to the craziest degree.] I don't think I've ever cared about someone, outside of family, as much as I have, and do, about you. It is what it is, and I am not afraid to admit that, because as you have once told me "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;understanding where we are today is the first step in determining where we want and need to go&lt;/span&gt;." I am not sure if, in time, I will still care about you as much as I do today, but for whatever it's worth.. We have fun together, or at least I do, and as friends, of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know not what the future will bring, but what I do know, is that, as every day goes by, I will try my best to take back, little by little - until there is none left - the power that I have given you over my thoughts and emotions. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Rome wasn't build in a day, was it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Did he do it to himself, or was it done to him?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- He did it to himself, and he did not regret it. Not for a sec.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-6126857091650875822?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/6126857091650875822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=6126857091650875822&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/6126857091650875822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/6126857091650875822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2008/11/ce-nest-pas-toi.html' title='Ce N&apos;est Pas Toi.'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-865714549724280663</id><published>2008-11-23T21:32:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T21:34:09.296-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lượm cho mình'/><title type='text'>Pas du tout.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Bien que mon amour soit fou,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ma raison calme les trop vives douleurs de mon coeur en lui &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;disant de patienier et d'espérer toujours...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-865714549724280663?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/865714549724280663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=865714549724280663&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/865714549724280663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/865714549724280663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2008/11/pas-du-tout.html' title='Pas du tout.'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-4481636566792139994</id><published>2008-11-23T00:06:00.014-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T15:52:54.342-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for someone'/><title type='text'>What if?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;They said, "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;if you fall asleep in the snow, you won't feel death coming.&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;Is that really true?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;( And how can you fall asleep, when every time you close your eyes, all you can see is that skinny figure, that little face, and those sparkling eyes... sometimes, even those scrumptious lips. The images become vivid, so vivid as if that person was right in front of you, so close, but just far enough so that your reach would not touch.  -- well, if you don't fall asleep, the cold will eventually put you out. Right? - Wrong. Death will come and snatch away the life out of you. Not only will you feel death coming, you will be wide awake, and watching.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've tried so hard to let it go, but something always pulls me back, telling me that there is hope. Many times I've decided to be done with you, but I could not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I feel like I am that one guy in the movies who always finishes second, no matter how hard he tries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it because I'm not good enough for you?&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and don't ask me why I keep chasing pavements&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't get it. I don't. Why do you always get what you want and I don't? Why is it that every time you come around, you win me over? Why is letting go of you so difficult, even though it shouldn't be? Why do I keep letting you have complete power over my emotions? and why can't I move on from this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you know how much I hate myself when my heart beats a little faster when I am around you? or when I find myself looking for the sight of your car in the parking lot every where I go, or when I get that suffocating feeling at the thought of you with someone else. I hate myself for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Has it ever occurred to you that you're hurting me? Have you ever noticed the look in my eyes every time you don't reply to my text messages? [you d-mb f-ck], do you know how much I care about you, even though I shouldn't at all?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not walking away because I don't want to be like all the others who have already given up on you. Do you know how hard it is for me to keep pushing myself to not give up? I guess you don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you think I still want to be with you, you're wrong. You are nothing like what I imagined my significant other to be. You are unfaithful, promiscuous, and selfish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I guess we both need to fall out of love with yourself.&lt;/span&gt;] right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if there was no light at the end of the tunnel?&lt;br /&gt;-&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; It certainly would not have been a problem had you not believed that there was light there in the first place.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;alright&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Because I still believe that there is, indeed, some light, even just a spark, at the end of the tunnel,&lt;br /&gt;while in reality, there isn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;[I am still in &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;repair&lt;/span&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-4481636566792139994?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/4481636566792139994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=4481636566792139994&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/4481636566792139994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/4481636566792139994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2008/11/what-if.html' title='What if?'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-4657582613262022002</id><published>2008-11-20T20:28:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T15:52:43.747-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Có lẽ...'/><title type='text'>Có lẽ một chút gì đó trong ta chết đi..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Ngày lạnh.&lt;br /&gt;Thấy trong ta có một cái gì đó thật giả tạo. Không thật, nhưng đau. Nhìn trong đám đông, có một vầng sáng; bừng lên, rồi lại vụt tắt -- một cái gì đó trong ta chết đi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phải tập cho bản thân lấy lại niềm tin vào tình yêu. Và, phải học lại cách thở. Có lẽ từ lâu rồi đã quen dần với cái cảm giác nghẹn đắng và khó thở, khi dường như lúc nào cũng như vậy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Không có gì là mãi mãi -- tình yêu và sự đau đớn; phải, không có gì là mãi mãi. Một khi ta nhận ra rằng ta cũng là họ, và họ cũng là ta, mọi thứ dường như trở nên dễ dàng hơn, ngàn lần dễ dàng hơn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[ "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;dù hạnh phúc hay khổ đau, thì cuộc tình ấy cũng là một phần máu thịt của bạn rồi&lt;/span&gt;" -- thử hỏi nên chọn cái nào, tàn tật để quên đi cuộc tình ấy, hay chấp nhận nó chung với nỗi đau? ]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Có lẽ mình hơi dễ dãi với bản thân. Ngã xuống, do mình đi không vững, hay là do bị ai đó vấp? (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Dù sao đi nữa, thì cũng đã ngã rồi, phải không?&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Người ta nói, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;khi ngủ gật đi trong tuyết trắng, cũng có nghĩa là mình sẽ không còn cảm thấy cái chết đến gần nữa.&lt;/span&gt;.. Phải vậy không? ] Được không, khi nhắm mắt lại, đôi mắt ấy, khuôn mặt ấy, hình hài ấy, và cả đôi môi ấy, lại hiện ra rõ mồn một. Chắc đến một chừng mực nào đấy, không ngủ đi được, thì cái lạnh sẽ làm ta ngất đi. Chắc vậy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Họ là những con người đến từ hôm qua, và không bao giờ ở lại hôm nay. Có lẽ ta sẽ nhìn được hình hài họ trong ngày mai, nhưng không bao giờ hôm nay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tự hỏi tại sao ta lại luôn bị cuốn hút vào những người vốn, và sẽ không bao giờ, hợp cho mình? - Tại vì trong ta luôn nuôi nấng một hy vọng, hy vọng rằng mình đã sai, rằng họ là đúng cho mình. Khi họ làm điều gì đó chứng tỏ họ không chung một con đường với ta, ta hay làm ngơ đi. Và khi họ quay lại làm ta ngạc nhiên, họ thắng tất cả trong ta. Và chính ta, lúc ấy, đã thua cuộc tranh luận với bản thân -- rằng họ không phải là nửa kia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[ "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Thật sự, nếu hạnh phúc đến quá dễ dàng, liệu con người ta có còn cảm thấy hạnh phúc không..?&lt;/span&gt;" ]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Có lẽ một chút gì đó trong ta chết đi. Không hẳn là bản thân đang chìm trong tuyệt vọng; cũng chẳng phải muốn đầu hàng. Vẫn còn tin vào ngày mai, và sẽ đi tiếp, bởi vì ta phải ở đó để xem câu chuyện của mình sẽ kết thúc như thế nào.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vì dù sao đi nữa, cái quan trọng nhất không phải là cách ta bắt đầu, mà là cách mình kết thúc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-4657582613262022002?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/4657582613262022002/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=4657582613262022002&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/4657582613262022002'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/4657582613262022002'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2008/11/c-l-mt-cht-g-trong-ta-cht-i.html' title='Có lẽ một chút gì đó trong ta chết đi..'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-5424470761847431879</id><published>2008-11-08T00:40:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T15:52:38.648-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for someone'/><title type='text'>broke</title><content type='html'>I am done trying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't get to repair what you broke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And since it's already broken, there's no point hurting myself trying to put the pieces back together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Super glue and duck tape don't always work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-5424470761847431879?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/5424470761847431879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=5424470761847431879&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/5424470761847431879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/5424470761847431879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2008/11/broke.html' title='broke'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-7140241682288216021</id><published>2008-10-11T09:07:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T15:52:27.035-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for me'/><title type='text'>Kết thúc lần nữa....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Trời mùa đông, hong khô đi niềm tin sỏi đá,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Trên đôi tay này, mình còn gì?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Và dòng sông, trôi đi vô tình mang tất cả..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Cuộc đời này, của người hay tôi..?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Bắt đầu nào rồi cũng có một kết thúc. Có điều, nó đến một cách thật bất ngờ. Lại tự nhủ lòng, thôi, tiếc mà chi. Cái gì rồi thì cũng qua, cũng chỉ là thế thôi. Chỉ có vậy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Một chút oán trách, ngã vào vùng sâu của đêm. Có chút gì đó êm đềm, nhưng đau đớn. Đau, không nhói, nhưng âm ỉ, âm ỉ, như những cơn mưa mùa thu, ít, nhưng dai dẳng.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lại ráng ngoi lên khỏi mặt nước, ngậm lấy một hơi thở dài, thật sâu, để lại chìm xuống đại dương kia, sâu, tối, và lớn hơn tất cả chúng ta. Thấy mất đi một chút gì đó, mặc dù nó chưa từng phải là của mình. Phải chăng là lỗi của thời gian?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bước vào một khoảng trời khác, khoảng trời của riêng mình, của một mùa thu. Một mùa thu đẹp, và buồn. Có lẽ tôi vẫn còn đang đi trong cái thế giới của mình, và chưa sẵn sàng để cho ai vào. Cuộc tình không trọn vẹn, lỗi không thuộc phần ai cả. Đơn giản, chỉ là nó không trọn vẹn. Nhưng dù sao đi nữa, trong khoảng thời gian đấy, tôi và ấy, đẫ đứng trên hành tinh của riêng hai đứa. Không lâu, nhưng đẹp. Giống mùa thu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;".. Dù hạnh phúc hay dở dang, thì cuộc tình ấy cũng là một phần máu thịt của bạn rồi.&lt;/span&gt;.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vậy, mùa đông này rồi sẽ một mình.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[có lẽ hiện thực vẫn chưa thuyết phục được mình.]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-7140241682288216021?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/7140241682288216021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=7140241682288216021&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/7140241682288216021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/7140241682288216021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2008/10/kt-thc-ln-na.html' title='Kết thúc lần nữa....'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-4965498699595822169</id><published>2008-10-04T13:09:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-04T13:17:10.759-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thơ'/><title type='text'>Không đề.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; v.a.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;_________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Có những người đi tìm mùa xuân từ đầu tháng hạ. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Bước chân vội vàng làm vụn vỡ bình yên và một loài cỏ muộn phiền trên đá.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Có thấy ngại cho em một ngày nào đó đã đánh mất tuổi hồn nhiên...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Rồi lớn lên trong những tháng ngày làm mặt lạ.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Vẫy tay chào hồn nhiên đã bay xa &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;-- âm thanh xưa em nghe chừng vang vọng -- &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Yêu dấu ơi! Nước mắt đã nhạt nhòa...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-4965498699595822169?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/4965498699595822169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=4965498699595822169&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/4965498699595822169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/4965498699595822169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2008/10/khng.html' title='Không đề.'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-541273053054652860</id><published>2008-10-01T20:33:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-04T13:17:30.883-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lượm cho mình'/><title type='text'>Vọng.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="image-wrapper"&gt;        &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;p style="font-style: italic; text-align: justify;"&gt;"Mỗi đời sống ẩn giấu một định mệnh. Có những định mệnh đời đời là cây kiếm sắc. Một đôi lần trong giấc mơ tôi, bừng lên những ánh thép đó. Nhưng tôi biết rõ rằng tôi chỉ là một loài chim nhỏ hót chơi trên đầu những ngọn lau. Không ai muốn mình là kẻ tuyệt vọng. Nhưng tôi tự nguyện làm tên tuyệt vọng. Bởi nhiều khi sớm mai tôi thức dậy không thấy được hoa quả khai sinh trong trái tim người.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-style: italic; text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p style="font-style: italic; text-align: justify;"&gt;Tôi lại biết thêm rằng, dù là người chiến thắng hay chiến bại, suốt cuộc đời cũng không thể vui chơi. Hạnh phúc đã ngủ yên trong những ngăn kéo của quên lãng."&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;- Trịnh Công Sơn&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="text-align: right;"&gt;Lại nghĩ,&lt;br /&gt;Đâu đấy trong thâm tâm, một cái gì đó lại vùng lên.&lt;br /&gt;Thoáng thấy mình bước vào trong vùng sáng nọ.&lt;br /&gt;Bỗng dưng đâu đấy lại gợn lên một chút gì đó lôi cuốn,&lt;br /&gt;Dịu dàng và lạnh lùng,&lt;br /&gt;Một cái gì đó có hình hài như nỗi buồn.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-style: italic; text-align: justify;"&gt;"...Tôi đã mỏi dần với lòng tin. Chỉ còn lại niềm tin sau cùng. Tin vào niềm tuyệt vọng. Có nghĩa là tin vào chính mình. Tin vào cuộc đời vốn không thể khác."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-541273053054652860?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/541273053054652860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=541273053054652860&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/541273053054652860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/541273053054652860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2008/10/vng.html' title='Vọng.'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-2358180360528469438</id><published>2008-07-18T14:00:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-24T22:19:40.453-04:00</updated><title type='text'>gone</title><content type='html'>Those long stories about that fancy, mysterious place,&lt;br /&gt;where it is all the same,&lt;br /&gt;where nothing can be seen,&lt;br /&gt;and nothing is there to be found,&lt;br /&gt;where our path once crossed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I often find myself wandering along the line&lt;br /&gt;between the fancy unreality and the unreal reality.&lt;br /&gt;Love is but a desert place,&lt;br /&gt;and the stream of fresh water is but an illusion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everybody walks in.&lt;br /&gt;Some come out alive,&lt;br /&gt;but most never return.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to live like her,&lt;br /&gt;walking along the line, the border&lt;br /&gt;not trying to look for the stream&lt;br /&gt;careless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everybody dies,&lt;br /&gt;we laugh when we thought the stream is found.&lt;br /&gt;we suffer when realized that it is merely an illusion.&lt;br /&gt;devastated, everything shatters, the inside as well as the outside.&lt;br /&gt;nothing was left but brokenness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so come fly with me...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-2358180360528469438?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/2358180360528469438/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=2358180360528469438&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/2358180360528469438'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/2358180360528469438'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2008/07/gone.html' title='gone'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-2320341858755331495</id><published>2008-07-12T15:16:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-12T20:11:41.034-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thơ'/><title type='text'>Im lặng</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;khoát chiếc túi vải.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;đi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ba lặng im,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;má chẳng nói gì.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;giận?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;không.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;thương đến nhiều là vậy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;tì chân lên ngưỡng cửa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;im lặng.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;buồn?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;không.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hiểu đến ngọn ngành là vậy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;khuất sau hàng giậu.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hoa dại trắng cành thơm dìu dịu.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;im lặng.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;đi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;người chiến sĩ.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;đôi khi...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;đâu cần phải nói mới biết là thương,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;đâu cần phải bày tỏ mới có thể hiểu,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;cũng đâu phải khi bước chân ra đi là không còn gì ràng buộc,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;cũng đâu phải hy sinh là cần phải nói cho ai đó biết mình đang làm vậy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;____________________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Bài thơ này mẹ viết.&lt;br /&gt;Lớn rồi con đọc lại mới hiểu.&lt;br /&gt;Hiểu hơn về sự ra đi, sự yêu thương, và cả sự tha thứ nữa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ông đã hy sinh nhiều thứ cho bà, mẹ và gia đình...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Con hiểu.&lt;br /&gt;Mẹ cũng đã hy sinh nhiều cho con.&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;đâu phải hy sinh là cần phải nói cho ai đó biết mình đang làm vậy..&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you, mommy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-2320341858755331495?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/2320341858755331495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=2320341858755331495&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/2320341858755331495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/2320341858755331495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2008/07/im-lng.html' title='Im lặng'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-5601096349628754328</id><published>2008-07-10T11:08:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T15:52:22.157-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for someone'/><title type='text'>Everything in between.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;It was anger that took over me. The moment I found out that I couldn't have what I really wanted. It was that moment that I felt how vulnerable and insecure I really am. I am angry because I thought I was stronger, because I was well convinced that life is great, because I was told that everything will be alright.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm used to always getting what I want, but that wasn't the case this time. I hate the feeling of wanting something so badly but all I can do is just to sit there helplessly watching it drifts away from me. I'm not sure if whether that is the worst feeling in the world but for all i know, it isn't pleasant. Sometimes I feel as if I am lost between imagination and reality. Yes, I am a dreamer. I dream of what would happen, what will happen, and what never can happen. I derive pleasure from having my own little perception of what I want reality to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've always been extremely self-conscious. I spent more time looking at my reflection off of others' eyes rather than perusing my own self. Lesson learned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is full of surprises, I must say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I often wonder what happiness is. Is it the smile on a child's face when he is given candy? Is it the look in the lover's eyes when he looks at this other half and tells her he loves her? Or is it the feeling one has when he realizes that regardless of what will happen, he will be just fine? I don't know what happiness is, but indeed I know what happiness isn't. It isn't the disappointment in the child's face when he gets his candy taken away; it isn't the desperate pain in the lover's eyes when his other half walks away; nor is it the feeling when he finally realizes that life isn't how he imagines it to be, the agony of a broken heart longing to be, once again, unbroken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Time does not heal the wound; however, it does, in its most merciful way, blunt the edge ever so slightly."&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;No, time does not heal the pain. At least not when that same arduous pain comes back in the middle of the night, presses down on your chest. You become unable to breath, the weight of stress and despondency took over your world; you suddenly feel a sharp blade excruciatingly penetrates down your chest and slit it open. You no longer believe that things will be alright, because they won't. Not when you are like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I often find myself listening to melancholy tunes in the midst of the stillness of the night. I enjoy the silence, it gives me a chance to take a closer look at myself, at what I'm going through, and at everything that is going on around me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found myself doing the same thing a few nights ago. It was then, that i saw myself not as vulnerable and helpless, but rather strong and independent. I found my way back into life, to the reality that I kept running from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The night.&lt;br /&gt;The music.&lt;br /&gt;The rain.&lt;br /&gt;The storm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the midst of all, I found peace. It wasn't the peace of knowing everything will be alright nor was it the feeling of being secured. It was the peace I have made with myself, with the past, the things that had happened, or those that never did. I stopped myself just before I took that step over the thin line between hope and denial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, that doesn't mean that I am done with what's passed. It merely means that I am able to stand up and walk all by myself. Sure I will often look back into memorial lane, not to  grieve upon regrets, but rather to take a moment and witness what I have gone through, and from which I will gather more strength.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I seemed to have lost my faith in love, life, and everything in between. But then I found it again, a thousand times better. It wasn't love or life that i doubted, it was everything in between- hope, denial, happiness, sadness, bitterness, pain... the list goes on. I just didn't know what was real and what wasn't. But now I do. Till this day, I still enjoy the pleasure derived from daydreaming; but I no longer find myself lost between my imagination and reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, who knows, someday, my imagination will be reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-5601096349628754328?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/5601096349628754328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=5601096349628754328&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/5601096349628754328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/5601096349628754328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2008/07/everything-in-between.html' title='Everything in between.'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-56620767729216978</id><published>2008-07-05T11:45:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T15:52:11.816-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for someone'/><title type='text'>Viết cho những gì đã qua..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left; margin-left: 80px; font-style: italic;"&gt;Ngày đó khi một lần, một lần tiếng hát,&lt;br /&gt;đồng lõa đưa em vào vùng trời lấp lánh&lt;br /&gt;bằng những cánh sao trời đầy đôi mắt ngước triều mến.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Em, em xa dần ngàn đời hoang vắng;&lt;br /&gt;tôi đi về buồn chưng kẽ tóc,&lt;br /&gt;bước chân này còn trọn kiếp hoang vu...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Đêm vụn vã.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Định nghĩa của hạnh phúc là như thế nào, tôi tự hỏi. Có lẽ thật đơn giản mà cũng có thể thật phức tạp. Giữa đêm , hoài niệm của ngày xưa lại chầm chậm bước về. Vốn biết đó không phải là tình yêu, mà sao vẫn nhức nhối.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Những thứ đã qua, những thứ đã bắt đầu và kết thúc, những thứ đã và đang xảy ra, những thứ mà tôi mong đã xảy ra... Đến và rồi đi. Tôi chưa sãn sàng cho sự ra đi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thôi. Mơ đủ rồi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Không còn giận, không còn hoang tưởng nữa; mà có thì chỉ tiếc một chút gì đó cho những gì đã không còn nữa. Trong tôi có một chút gì đó vẫn không muốn chấp nhận sự thật. Một lần nào đó, tôi đã tin vào tình yêu.. và một lần nào sau đó, tôi biết mình sai.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Giấc mơ thì vẫn là giấc mơ. Yêu thì vẫn cứ yêu. Nhưng tình yêu của tôi và giấc mơ, hai thứ giống nhau lắm, ở chỗ không cái nào sẽ trở thành hiện thực.Tôi, giống như bao người, có nhiều mơ ước cho riêng mình thôi.. và khi tôi bắt đầu biết cách mơ ước cho thêm một người nữa, tôi mới nghiệm ra rằng hy vọng, mơ ước chỉ như áng mây kia, cứ bay mãi, không biết bao giờ mới về ngàn. Và rồi, trớt quớt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Những cảm xúc đến từ đâu, tôi không biết. Tôi đã không bao giờ nghĩ rằng mình sẽ ở trong hoàn cảnh này. Tôi luôn tự cho rằng mình là người cứng rắng, rằng trong tình yêu, mình là người sáng suốt. Vậy, mà không phải. Tôi cũng yêu trong mù lòa, giống như con người đấy thôi. (Mà tức thêm cái nữa là đấy chả phải tình yêu mà sao cũng đau chết khiếp)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Một lần mùa xuân, một lần chúng ta bên nhau, tôi hỏi "chuyện mình ra sao.."; ấy chỉ khẽ cười "có lẽ...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Viết những dòng này coi như là viết cho một dĩ vãng, một quá khứ buông trôi. Có lẽ tôi vẫn sẽ nhớ hòai những hoài niệm dấu yêu kia, như một thứ gì đó thật ngọt ngào, đẹp đẽ. Và không biết đến bao giờ con tim mới thôi nghẹn lại khi nhìn vào những ký ức kia, nhưng tôi biết rằng tôi sẽ cứ nhìn lại, cho đến khi nào vết thương chai đi, hoặc cho đến khi nào ai đó đến và lấp đầy tôi với những kí ức khác..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Còn bây giờ..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tình vẫn trong anh, ngập đầy nỗi nhớ&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Giọng hát buôn lơi, ngọt từng hơi thở&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Để có mình anh, với những ngày xưa&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Yêu em... &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-56620767729216978?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/56620767729216978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=56620767729216978&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/56620767729216978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/56620767729216978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2008/07/vit-cho-nhng-g-qua.html' title='Viết cho những gì đã qua..'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-7050376293488578419</id><published>2008-07-05T11:43:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T22:17:37.784-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for someone'/><title type='text'>I'm not together, but I'm getting there..</title><content type='html'>"&lt;em&gt;I am in repair,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm not together but I'm getting there..&lt;/em&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt; Maybe I was wrong. What I thought was there, perhaps, was merely a perception of my own perspective, of what I wanted it to be. I often wonder if whether I am lost or confused, or stuck in my own delusion. Through days of frustration and despondency, (which i thought was a pretty condign consequence for my being stupid) I have learned that things, or better yet, people are only as powerful as you imagine them to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I would still look back and regret for what could have been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have I actually moved on yet? I thought I have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be honest, it wasn't the wound that kept me from moving on, but it was rather the hopes, or denial, of a more positive outlook that I tend to always have. Things aren't what they seem to be, and I've only been seeing things in my own perspective while refusing to look through others eyes. It was not because I am arrogant or stubborn; it was because I simply only saw what I wanted to see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The concept of love has always been so peculiar, and peculiar, i tried to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time, things didn't work out the way I wanted it to, and I like to think of that as loving the wrong person; actually, liking to be exact (I don't think I've ever loved anyone for that matter.) But now that I think about it, it wasn't liking the wrong person, because when you're affectionate towards someone, the feeling comes naturally. But, for the first time, I actually really wanted to be there for a a person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever felt that genuine, comforting and yet painful feeling that you get when liking someone yet knowing all the while that he or she is completely out of your reach?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've always thought that there is nothing I am incapable of doing. But this time, I guess the joke is on me. I am no longer sad, nor upset; the feeling is no longer painful as it once was; but my heart still sinks every now and then.. simply because, as I have said, time does not heal the wound..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be done.&lt;br /&gt;I want to be able to say that I have moved on.&lt;br /&gt;I guess it is only a matter of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You stepped into my life, bringing along some of the most amazing moments I have ever had, and for that, I thank you. I no longer regret what happened, or what else could have happened, I am now just simply grateful that you have come into my life. What we had was nice, to me at least, and I have no idea how long it will take me to completely break of that weird feeling i have when i'm with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, I do, somewhat, feel like I'm free of you, like I am capable of living without you, like I don't need you anymore. But i still for sure want you to be in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friends at last, i hope.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-7050376293488578419?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/7050376293488578419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=7050376293488578419&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/7050376293488578419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/7050376293488578419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2008/07/im-not-together-but-im-getting-there.html' title='I&apos;m not together, but I&apos;m getting there..'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-1100413497652532972</id><published>2008-05-14T23:38:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T15:49:29.802-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Có lẽ...'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='for life'/><title type='text'>Có lẽ mọi thứ đều có sự sắp đặp riêng của chúng...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Thoảng trong mắt nó một chút gì đó vu vơ, oán trách.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thấy có chút gì đó buồn buồn, tủi tủi.. Nhìn cuộc sống của nhiều người đi qua trước mắt nó, thấy xót cho thân phận của nhiều người, cả đời lo mà theo đuổi và níu kéo một ước mơ giản dị, nhưng rồi những sức lực và hy vọng nhỏ nhoi của họ lại bị đè nén dưới sự lo toan tính toán của người khác.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cuộc sống sao bất công. Đôi khi nó tự hỏi, liệu cái cái mà người ta gọi là kết thúc tốt đẹp, cái đó có thật không? Trong tìm thức đôi khi nhủ lòng rằng ngày mai mọi việc sẽ tốt đẹp hơn, rằng sau cơn mưa trời lại sáng.. nhưng lỡ, nếu trời mưa tiếp thì sao? Chẳng lẽ đợi hoài cho đến khi hết mưa àh? Hay là nên cứ đội mưa mà đi?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nó không phủ nhận rằng cuộc sống thật đẹp, nó chỉ thấy rằng trong cái vẻ đẹp đấy, có một sự tàn nhẫn, bạo đến đau lòng. Nhìn những thế hệ đi trước, những gì họ đã trải qua, thấy mình còn nhiều thứ phải học lắm, học về sự kiên nhẫn và chịu đựng, và sự yêu thương và tha thứ, về lòng kiêu hãnh và định kiến, và về cuộc sống.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Có lẽ mọi thứ đều có sự sắp đặp riêng của chúng.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Có lẽ, đôi khi nó chỉ quên mất cái gì mới thật sự là quan trọng.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Viết cho mình.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-1100413497652532972?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/1100413497652532972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=1100413497652532972&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/1100413497652532972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/1100413497652532972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2008/05/c-l-mi-th-u-c-s-sp-p-ring-ca-chng.html' title='Có lẽ mọi thứ đều có sự sắp đặp riêng của chúng...'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-223260461724879643</id><published>2008-05-11T08:20:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T22:17:42.327-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for someone'/><title type='text'>Tình cờ.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;tình cờ không? cuộc tình cờ,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;tự nhiên đi- đến, không lời chia xa.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;nghĩ không duyên nợ ruột rà,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;người dưng ngoảnh mặt mà ray rức buồn..&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; - blog z.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt; ______________________________&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Đôi khi, mọi thứ diễn ra một cách thật tình cờ..&lt;br /&gt;- Đôi khi, họ bước vào cuộc đời ta một cách tình cờ, và bước ra cũng tình cờ.&lt;br /&gt;- Đôi khi, chỉ cần trong giây lát, một người bạn lại trở thành một người dưng,&lt;br /&gt;- Đôi khi, ta dường như không có thời gian cho họ, và họ cũng chẳng có thời gian cho ta.&lt;br /&gt;- Đôi khi, mọi thứ thật đơn giản lại tình cờ trở nên phức tạp.&lt;br /&gt;- ..Và đôi khi, ta không biết cách giữ họ lại, để rồi chỉ biết người nhìn họ bước ra khỏi cuộc đời ta, và rồi ta cho rằng mọi thứ chỉ là chuyện "tình cờ"...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify; margin-left: 80px;"&gt;Có lẽ mọi thứ đều đã có sự sắp đặt của nó. Lắm lúc có vẻ như ta biết mình đang làm gì, nhưng thật sự ta chẳng biết đi lối nào. Moi thứ diễn ra trước mắt ta không theo một quy luật nào, và mình thì vẫn cho rằng mọi thứ chỉ là tình cờ... Tình cờ không? Hay là lắm lúc ta có thể làm một điều gì đó để thay đổi cái kết quả kia, để giữ họ lại với ta, nhưng... rồi lại thôi? Họ đã đến, và đem đến cho ta một niềm vui nhỏ nhoi nào đó, cho ta biết nhiều thứ mà ta chưa từng nghe, (và còn đem đến cho ta một cách giết thời gian rất ư là hiệu quả - spending time with họ), và rồi bây giờ, có lẽ như họ cũng sắp "tình cờ" bước ra khỏi cuộc đời ta. Và ta không biết phải làm sao..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Đừng đi, họ nhá.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" &gt;viết cho J.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-223260461724879643?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/223260461724879643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=223260461724879643&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/223260461724879643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/223260461724879643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2008/05/tnh-c.html' title='Tình cờ.'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-4538156554845560466</id><published>2008-05-08T16:18:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T15:50:18.806-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for no one'/><title type='text'>Chiều...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Buổi chiều, nắng hiu hiu, sắp tàn.. Tôi lái xe trên con đường vắng quen thuộc. Dường như tự bao giờ, tôi có cảm nghĩ rằng con đường là của riêng mình. Những hàng cây cao, lá đã trở vàng, chỉ chờ một con gió nào đó thổi đi. Phải chăng lá đã sẵn sàng lìa cây?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buổi chiều, trời đông lạnh, tuyết phủ trắng cả một khoảng không, khoảng không mà tôi cũng cho là của mình. Một màu trắng xóa, lạnh buốt cả không gian, nhưng tôi thấy đẹp làm sao, những hạt tuyết lấp lánh, như nhữg hy vọng xa xôi...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buổi chiều, em bước vào cuộc đời tôi. Không như những cô gái khác, em mang vẻ đẹp dịu dàng, huyền dịu của nắng. Em bước vào thế giới của tôi, và hình như trong một giây, cả thế giới của tôi dừng lại. Tôi vốn yêu mây, trong khi em là nắng, mà không hỉu sao tôi lại thấy em cuốn hút đến lạ kì..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buổi chiều, hai đứa đi dạo vòng quanh góc phố nhỏ. Dưới hàng cây sao, góc phố nọ như chỉ có hai đứa. Tôi nhìn em và mỉm cười; "sao cuộc đời tốt với anh thế?".. Và em cũng cười, nhưng đâu đó trong nụ cười kia có một sự gượng gạo. Có lẽ em cố giấu, nhưng tôi vẫn nhìn thấy..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buổi chiều, tôi bước ra khỏi cuộc đời em. Đôi khi sự ra đi có lẽ là cách tốt nhất, em đến và rồi tôi đi. Không hứa hẹn gì, và cũng không một lời trách móc. Chỉ thế thôi. Đôi khi, chia tay chỉ đơn giản là chia tay.. Đôi khi, chia tay không cần một lý do nhất thiết nào đó. Đôi khi, nó chỉ đơn giản là sự cách ly của hai tâm hồn chưa từng thuộc về nhau.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buổi chiều, tôi ngồi như một cậu bé, giữa hoàng hôn, tự hỏi mình; "bao giờ mây sẽ về với gió?".. Tôi đã tự cho mình là gió từ lúc nào không hay. Tôi hay ghen tị với gió, được bay đi bay đó, được thổi mây về ngàn... Nhưng đó chỉ là tôi, còn mây, mây thì sao?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buổi chiều, ngày đã sắp tan, tôi lại đi về. Bỗng dưng ngước nhìn lên, thoảng đâu đó, có một đám mây đang trôi theo bầu trời nghi nghút gió. Và lại một lần nữa hỏi mình "đám mây kia có phải em?"..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buổi chiều, mây kéo đến, và mưa bắt đầu rơi...&lt;br /&gt;Buổi chiều đó, thu lại về..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Chiều buồn len lén tâm tư&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mơ hồ nghe lá thu mưa,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Dạt dào tựa những âm xưa....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-4538156554845560466?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/4538156554845560466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=4538156554845560466&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/4538156554845560466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/4538156554845560466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2008/05/chiu.html' title='Chiều...'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-5923016285365961359</id><published>2008-05-08T16:07:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T15:52:02.146-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for me'/><title type='text'>Hoài Nghi.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Bỗng dưng nó cảm thấy có phần nào đó lạc lõng, giữa thế giới vô hồn này. Không hẳn là bị bỏ rơi, nó vẫn cảm thấy được yêu thương, nhưng lạc lõng. Một chút gì đó trong nó ráng níu kéo lại quá khứ, tuổi thơ kia. Lớn lên trong thế giới của tiền tài và danh vọng, nó học được cách tốn tại trong thế giới đó, cách đối phó với con người, cách đạp người khác xuống để bước lên họ, đẩy họ ra khỏi bước đường của nó, cách để lấy được những gì mình muốn. Nó học được ý nghĩa của sự tàn nhẫn, và nó biết cách trở nên tàn nhẫn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Có lúc nó quay lưng lại với những người nó yêu thương, để chi? Để chạy theo sự xa hoa, phù phiếm của một thế giới mà nó không thuộc về, để bương chải một mình dẫu biết người khác sẵn sàng cùng mình bước đi, để đạp đổ giấc mơ của một ai đó, để cười nhạo lên sự cố gắng không thành của một người khác. Bỗng thấy sao mình quá nhẫn tâm. Bỗng thấy mình không đáng được yêu thương. Mọi thứ xảy ra vì một lý do nào đó, đôi khi để dạy cho ta một bài học, khi khác để cho ta nhìn lại mình. Và cũng có khi, với nó, mọi thứ chạy qua trước mặt chỉ như một dòng nước xoáy, cuồn cuộn, chảy theo dòng sông lạnh giá đó, rồi đến một lúc nào đó, tất cả đổ xuống một cái thác thật cao to và hùng vĩ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Đôi khi trong tìm thức, nó tìm được chính mình, với Cha, nó còn bé bỏng, nhỏ hơn một hạt cát, và không đáng giá gì. Nhưng Cha vẫn yêu nó, vẫn kiên nhẫn với tính ngang bướng của nó. Đôi khi, cuộc sống vồ vạc, gặm nhấm từng miếng thâm tâm của nó. Ráng bước tiếp. Đôi khi, không còn biết làm gì hơn là bước tiếp.. Đôi khi, chỉ cần một chút tia hy vọng để đủ sức mà bước tiếp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chưa hề có một lý do nào để nó nghi ngờ, để nó mất niềm tin.. Nhưng có lẽ khi nó để cho hoài nghi lên ngôi, cũng là lúc nó tự mình nghi vấn Cha. Phải chăng nó đã để mình trở thành một nô lệ của thế giới vật chất kia, của tiền tại và danh vọng, của những ước muốn không đáy, của kiêu hãnh và định kiến? Tự dặng lòng rằng sẽ không phải là người của thế giới này, nhưng đôi khi, nó lại tìm đến với thế giới trước khi tìm đến với Cha. Có lẽ cuộc sống đã ưu đãi nó với quá nhiều thứ, để rồi khi nó không lấy được một cái gì mình muốn, nó lại oán trách Cha, oán trách cuộc sống sao bất công. Nó thừa biết mình đang làm gì và mình muốn gì, nhưng thật sự nó không biết tại sao mình lại như vậy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Niềm tin không bao giờ song hành với sự hoài nghi, cũng như cái đúng không bao giờ song hành với cái sai. Dạo này nó thoáng hay nghi ngờ người khác, không phải nó mất lòng tin, mà dường như nó không muốn tin, không muốn dựa dẫm vào ai khác, không muốn người khác thương hại cho nó. Vốn dĩ, nó không phải vậy, nhưng cuộc sống đầy dồn dập, bon chen, đã tạo nên cho nó một sự kiên nhẫn, kiên nhẫn để đấu tranh cho những gì mình muốn, kiên nhẫn để chờ đợi một ai đó, kiên nhẫn để thua keo này còn bày keo khác, kiên nhẫn để không bỏ cuộc. Nhưng đôi khi sự kiên nhẫn đó dường như biến thành sự cố chấp. Cố chấp không để ai vào trong lòng mình, không phơi bày suy nghĩ của nó, không thật lòng. Có chăng là sự sợ hãi và nghi ngờ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thoáng chốc thấy mình sao khờ khệt, nó thầm cười, cười với cuộc sống, cười với con người, và cười với yêu thương. Đôi khi, yêu thương là tất cả nó cần, yêu thương có thể chắp vá lại niềm tin đã mất, yêu thương có thể thắp lên một tia hy vọng mong manh, yêu thương có thế kéo con người gần với nhau.. và, "tình yêu thương chẳng hề hư mất bao giờ..." Có thể yêu thương một ngày nào đó sẽ với đi, sẽ phai nhạt nhưng sẽ không bao giờ hư mất... Và nó cũng biết rằng tình yêu thương của Cha dành cho nó sẽ không bao giờ vơi đi, hay phai nhạt...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sẽ thôi không sợ hãi, thôi không nghi ngờ, và sẽ học lại bài học kia, bài học của yêu thương -- để một lúc nào đó, yêu thương sẽ chiếm chỗ của sự hoài nghi.. /.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-5923016285365961359?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/5923016285365961359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=5923016285365961359&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/5923016285365961359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/5923016285365961359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2008/05/hoi-nghi.html' title='Hoài Nghi.'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-700066415805462124</id><published>2007-08-09T19:58:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-05T11:49:44.133-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pictures'/><title type='text'>DC trip.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Pictures from DC last week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1012/1046967732_7cc808815c.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1012/1046967732_7cc808815c.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ronal Reagan Building&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1439/1046967980_fdfdd3f7a6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1439/1046967980_fdfdd3f7a6.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;White House&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1258/1046967934_e69a418ff2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1258/1046967934_e69a418ff2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;National Aquarium&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1360/1046967614_9bfff57bcd.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1360/1046967614_9bfff57bcd.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... that said it all&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1175/1046967724_659db08e3d.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1175/1046967724_659db08e3d.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the Plaza&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1253/1046967566_add651db64.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1253/1046967566_add651db64.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Enviroment something building.. i forgot what it was called&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1079/1066154138_ba8bff111e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1079/1066154138_ba8bff111e.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Old Post Office.. It looks so cool&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- The Nature History Museum -&lt;br /&gt;One of my favorite place =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1349/1046946702_808683a724.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1349/1046946702_808683a724.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1184/1046946626_b5a531607b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1184/1046946626_b5a531607b.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those things are real, man..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1414/1065289355_b9bb0c0731.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1414/1065289355_b9bb0c0731.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The "Pencil"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-700066415805462124?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/700066415805462124/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=700066415805462124&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/700066415805462124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/700066415805462124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2007/08/pics-from-dc-trip.html' title='DC trip.'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1012/1046967732_7cc808815c_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-4096114354397082551</id><published>2007-08-03T13:34:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T15:50:05.084-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for no one'/><title type='text'>Viết cho Sài Gòn...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Hôm qua được dịp coi để coi cuốn phim Vượt Sóng - Journey from the Fall. Mặt dù tôi đã được nghe bố mẹ và mấy cậu, mấy dì kể nghe về ngày Sài Gòn bị chết dưới tay Cộng Sản, nhưng mà vẫn chưa một lần có thể hình dung được nó nhìn-như-thế-nào.. Ngồi coi phim với bố, đến đoạn mà có cảnh bắt người trong trại học tập đi làm, bố buồn kể. Ngày xưa cũng giống như vậy đó, tụi cán bộ bắt đi làm như điên, nguyên một ngày cho có 1 chén cơm, có nhiều thằng bạn của bố bị bắt nhốt vô chuồn chó nữa kìa, có hôm nó hứng lến, nhốt mình vô cái thùng phi, xong rồi đập lên cái thùng đến chảy máu lỗ tai...&lt;br /&gt;Lại suy nghĩ, miệng thì nói là vô giải phóng miền Nam, mà sự thật thì lại giết chết miền Nam. Thật sự thì câu nói bất tử của tổng thống Thiệu mới đúng làm sao: Đừng nghe những gì cộng sản nói mà hãy nhìn những gì cộng sản làm.&lt;br /&gt;Lại thấy thương cho Việt Nam mình, thương cho những người đã bám lại Việt Nam, và cả những người đã ra đi tìm tự do. Quá khứ, lịch sử, tôi thấy mình may mắn làm sao khi mà chỉ biết về nó qua lời kể của gia đình, qua những bài viết, những bộ phim, mà không phải chính mình sống trong cái quá khứ đau đớn của Việt Nam đó. Tôi lại thấy thương cho lớp trẻ sau này bên Việt Nam, liệu chúng có biết sự thật là gì? Khi chúng chỉ được dạy những lời dối trá của cộng sản trong lớp học lịch sử, nào rằng chống Mỹ giải phóng miền Nam... I wonder if they would ever know the truth? When will our country really be free?&lt;br /&gt;Chỉ biết chờ đợi, và mong sao rằng.. Sài Gòn trong tương lai sẽ lại là Sài Gòn, sẽ lại đưuọc mang tên gọi Sài Gòn đó, chứ không phải còn mang cái tên quỷ tha ma bắt "Thành Phố Hô Chí Minh."&lt;br /&gt;Hô Chí Minh my butt!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;_____________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://tninjia.multiply.com/music/item/3"&gt;Ai Trở Về Xứ Việt - Khánh Ly&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_____________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ai Trở Về Xứ Việt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Phan Văn Hưng&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ai trở về xứ Việt,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nhắn giùm ta, người ấy ở trong tù,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nghe đâu đây vang giọng hờn rên xiết,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Dài lắm không? Đằng đẳng mấy mùa thu?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ai đi về xứ việt,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Thăm giùm ta, người ấy ở trong tù.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Cho ta gửi một mảnh trời xanh biết&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Thay giùm ai màu trời ngục âm u&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Các bạn ta ơi, bao giờ được thả?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Đến bao giờ ăn được bát cơm tươi?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Được lắng nghe tiếng chim cười,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Đến bao giờ? Đến bao giờ?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Người bạn tù ơi ta không quuên đâu,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nhớ hôm xưa nhìn đôi tay cùm xích..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hàng song thưa chia cách vạn tình ngâum&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ai tra tấn? nghe lòng ai kim chích?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ai trở về xứ việt,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ta gửi về theo một ít tự do&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Tự do, tự do và nhiều lắm, nhiều nhớ thương tha thiết&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Đến cửa ngục tù chia bớt chút buồn lo..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ai trở về xứ Việt,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nhắn giùm ta, người ấy ở trong tù,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ta sẽ về đón ở cửa âm u,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Đời sẽ đẹp mùa xuân hồng biết mấy..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Dầu ngoài kia, mấy có trĩu mùa thu....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-4096114354397082551?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/4096114354397082551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=4096114354397082551&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/4096114354397082551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/4096114354397082551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2007/08/vit-cho-si-gn.html' title='Viết cho Sài Gòn...'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-3003453209343175056</id><published>2007-07-30T17:21:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T15:51:57.393-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for me'/><title type='text'>Biết Bao Giờ Trở Lại..</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Tôi đã đi, tôi vẫn đi mãi biết bao giờ trở lại,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sàigòn ơi, sao em còn mãi trong tim tôi?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ôi những con đường ngày nào còn nghe lá rơi,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nụ cười còn tươi nét môi,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hay áo mầu phai úa rồi..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Tôi đã đi, tôi vẫn đi mãi biết bao giờ trở lại.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hỏi lòng nhau cơn mưa nào xóa đi thương đau?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Bao tháng năm dài miệt mài đời như khói sương,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nghìn trùng giòng sông vấn vương,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Để nhớ thương lệ mắt buồn..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Tôi vẫn mơ thành phố cũ lối xưa đi về,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Dù hồn nghe tái tê, tìm đâu thấy những cơn mộng mê.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Một ngày nào đó như cánh chim bạt gió,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Có nghe mùa thu qua xót xa tình phôi pha?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Tôi vẫn tin, tôi vẫn tin mãi sẽ có ngày trở lại,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Để cùng em rong chơi tìm những cánh sao rơi.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Cho tiếng hát buồn ngày nào nhịp vang phố vui,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nụ cười về trên nét môi,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hạnh phúc tôi, một góc trời.."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:78%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Ngô Thụy Miên&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;    Tự nhiên sao thấy nhớ Sài Gòn quá xá. Nhớ nhất là mùa mưa ở Sài Gòn. Lần này về đến đầu tháng 7, mùa mưa chỉ mới bắt dầu, là đi về lại bên này rồi. Nhớ hồi xưa đi học trời mưa là ướt nhem chèm nhẹp.. về nhà mẹ bắt đi tắm liền, không trúng mưa đầu mùa là bệnh chết. Bên này, đi đâu cũng bằng xe hơi.. trời mưa tầm tã mà ngồi trong xe đi từ trường về nhà, mình mẩy khô queo. Bên kia, trời mưa, cả nhà xôm tụ đúc bánh xèo ăn... mình cũng bon chen "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;cho con đúc với"&lt;/span&gt; Nhớ nhất là lúc đi xay gạo giữa trời mưa, chị Trinh hay chở đi, khoác lên cái áo mưa xanh xanh, leo lên xe đạp, đằng sau thì ngồi ôm cái xô gạo, tới nó người ta xay ra lấy cái nước đem về đúc bánh xèo.. (Nhắc thấy thèm quá.) Bên này, trời mưa... ngồi trong nhà coi TV.&lt;br /&gt;Thật sự thì đi đâu cũng không bằng quê mình mà phải không? Cho dù tiện nghi hơn, nhưng mà không có gì có thể đánh đổi được cái cảm giác hồn nhiên, ngây thơ hồi xưa. Thấy cuộc đời sao mà bon chen quá, lâu lâu chỉ ước gì mình giống như hồi xưa, vô tư chơi xả láng sáng dậy sớm. Khỏi cần phải lo lắng về tương lai.. Nhưng mà nghĩ đi nghĩ lại cho cùng thì cũng chỉ là ở ta thôi, tự tiềm niềm vui trong cuộc sống mà... cốt là ở cách nhìn của ta về nó&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trời lại mưa... mưa như điên... ngồi trong nhà... viết blog.. =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-3003453209343175056?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/3003453209343175056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=3003453209343175056&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/3003453209343175056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/3003453209343175056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2007/07/bit-bao-gi-tr-li.html' title='Biết Bao Giờ Trở Lại..'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-1295235399247397643</id><published>2007-07-29T23:46:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T15:51:53.167-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='written for me'/><title type='text'>Quay lại</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;"Cho nên đôi khi chỉ nhìn lại cái thảm trải đầy hoa phía sau lưng, để mà lấy cam đảm dấn bước tiếp. Đến đâu thì đến, được bước nào hay bước đó..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;_________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ngẫm nghĩ lại thì thấy đúng thật..&lt;br /&gt;Lắm khi mình cũng nhìn về quá khứ..&lt;br /&gt;Quay mặt lại, đưa tay với như để níu kéo một cái gì đó..&lt;br /&gt;Và dường như chẳng bao giờ giữ lại được,&lt;br /&gt;Quá khứ, đôi khi thật thanh thản, nhưng đôi khi cũng thật đau đớn,&lt;br /&gt;Có những cái mà ta muốn quên đi, nhưng cứ nhớ hoài thôi,&lt;br /&gt;Nhưng lạ thay, thời gian lại làm dịu đi nỗi đau đó..&lt;br /&gt;Và khi ta ngoái lại,&lt;br /&gt;Dù cho có thấy một đường đi trải đầy hoa hay không,&lt;br /&gt;Thì trong lòng ta vẫn thấy bỗng nhiên sao thanh thản,&lt;br /&gt;Và rồi từ lúc đó, ta lại lấy thêm can đảm để tiếp tục con đường đó..&lt;br /&gt;Vẫn sống, vẫn bước tới,&lt;br /&gt;Và vẫn không ít lần ngoái lại để tìm thêm nghị lực mà bước tiếp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;Finally, I feel a sense of belonging.&lt;br /&gt;It's good to know that I'm belonged to something...&lt;br /&gt;Or &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;someone&lt;/span&gt;, for that matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Rồi một chiều qua phố,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nghe nhớ thương về bên ấy,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Giọng cười bờ môi ướt,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;E ấp vương hồn phiêu lãng..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Gọi mùa Thu quyến rũ&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Đến đây cho hồn ngất ngây,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Lang thang theo gió heo may,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Đếm bước cho quên lạnh lùng...."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" &gt;Thu Trong Mắt Em&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-1295235399247397643?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/1295235399247397643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=1295235399247397643&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/1295235399247397643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/1295235399247397643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2007/07/quay-li.html' title='Quay lại'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9015280520619057468.post-6913261916617365792</id><published>2007-04-09T01:17:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-05T11:50:10.816-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thơ'/><title type='text'>Về</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" class="postbody"  &gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Đôi mắt ngày xưa lấp áng mây,&lt;br /&gt;Cho trời xanh biếc bỗng băng khoăng,&lt;br /&gt;Đôi mi như gió mùa xa ấy&lt;br /&gt;Cho hồn xanh ngát, thoáng thơ ngây&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ta đứng bên đời, em thoáng qua,&lt;br /&gt;Gió chiều ngơ ngát mãi trong ta,&lt;br /&gt;Cõi buồn say tiếng ngày yêu đó,&lt;br /&gt;Mây nhớ ngày xưa nắng phôi pha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ta nhớ ngày xưa, bóng ngây thơ&lt;br /&gt;Đôi mắt gợn buồn trong nắng trưa?&lt;br /&gt;Bóng chiều bay lắng trong màu nhớ&lt;br /&gt;Trong thoáng em buồn, ai ngẩn ngơ?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ôi, nhớ ngày xưa, bóng dáng ai.&lt;br /&gt;Ngày sầu trong nắng thoáng heo may,&lt;br /&gt;Thôi buồn ta hỡi, bên chiều tái,&lt;br /&gt;Em nhớ bây giờ, ta vẫn mong...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;" class="postbody"  &gt;[Ta]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:78%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9015280520619057468-6913261916617365792?l=tmai90.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/feeds/6913261916617365792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9015280520619057468&amp;postID=6913261916617365792&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/6913261916617365792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9015280520619057468/posts/default/6913261916617365792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://tmai90.blogspot.com/2007/04/sm-ma-ng-y.html' title='Về'/><author><name>Ta</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
