<?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-14765728</id><updated>2011-05-11T09:31:35.202-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sagar Sameer</title><subtitle type='html'>Where I spent the best moments of my life..where dreams were born daily, music seeped in every aspect of my being, my best friend Lucky was around, my dad's hair was not grey and love was all we needed to get by...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Misunderstood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08952671762531711996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>22</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14765728.post-113213836453970286</id><published>2005-11-16T02:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-16T02:52:44.590-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Where is the love?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I used to be the person who was always in love with someone or something at any given time. Love used to make my heart sing and brought a skip to my step. Not any more...sad but true..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I have become a cynical, bitter, vindictive person who has trouble believing everthing people say. I am a big softie at heart and I have been broken so many times that now I wear a protective mask all the time. I dont want to be hurt, I dont want to be loved, I dont want to be touched, I dont want to be with anybody besides my shadow, I dont care a damn. To hell with everybody. Everytime I break, I am shattered into a million pieces and when I put myself back together, I am a different person, I dont recognize myself anymore, I see a stranger in the mirror, she looks like someone I used to know, but she is not that person at all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I am coated with tefflon, nothing sticks to me, I want to stick to nobody. I dont want to get attached to nobody and I want nobody to get attached to me. I have no strength and energy left for suckers who just latch onto to me for comfort, protection and strength pit-stop and then move on to something less complicated and low-maintainence. I am sick and tired of being a muse for people who think that they should only see and hear pleasant things in the road of self-discovery. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I come with a very bold disclaimer that says "Stay away" because I know I am too intense for the average person. I find it hard being me and I really can understand what the other person goes through trying to get to know me.  I am a very difficult person to live with, I have tonnes of baggage, my mood swings are volatile, I am intensely passionate and fiercely possessive of things that I feel belong to me, I want to belong and yet not be possessed, I am a wild spirit who hates being tamed, I dont like rules and regulations, I dont believe in compromise and sacrifice, I dont believe in the institution called marriage, I dont believe in love. Love is a fleeting moment, it comes and goes. The only thing that will remain is whether you love yourself and that I do and I always will. Because no matter what, good times or bad times, I will never abandon myself. I believe in ME. My world revolves around ME. Its all about ME. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I rather be friends with a person who is mean to me as I know for a fact as to where I stand. I dont want to get attached to a seemingly nice person because I would never know what his ugly side will be. I dont want to be caught off-guard. I am on my guard all the time. I have a back-up of a back-up of a back-up. I am not going to invest all my feelings in one person. Its a very scary thought. And I have changed from being a tigeress to a timid chicken. I cannot risk any more heartbreaks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So at this point I am in love with alot of people at the same time. Yes, I am promiscuous, you can even call me a slut, do I care about what you think of me, Absolutely not.... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So stay away from me. Take this as a loud and serious warning. Dont think that your love can change me, It wont, I am broken, I am torn, nothing can make me what I used to be.  I cant fall in love anymore, its a fact. I might look vulnerable, I might look lost, my innocence can make you melt, my passion can make you soar but I am as hard as nails, I can erupt anytime or I can be frigid as frigid can be. Dont think you can protect me from this big bad world, who will protect you from me? So stay away, stay away, stay away, dont come in my way. I have an unique destiny, the road I take is hard and steep, its not meant for the meek.  Yes I am arrogant as arrogant can be, because I know what I am made up of. Of guts, glory and steel. I dont forgive, I dont forget, I dont believe it when you say you love me because love is a four letter word after all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14765728-113213836453970286?l=myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/113213836453970286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14765728&amp;postID=113213836453970286' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/113213836453970286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/113213836453970286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/2005/11/where-is-love.html' title='Where is the love?'/><author><name>Misunderstood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08952671762531711996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14765728.post-113195647266029842</id><published>2005-11-13T23:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-11-14T00:21:12.686-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Can't fight love</title><content type='html'>Oh look at us&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are such a mess&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tangled emotions&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feelings stretched&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My eyes smolder&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With devotion for you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is this too intense&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Too intense for you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't want to deny&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The love that I feel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't want to bind you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the cross that it brings&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am trying to hide it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that you cannot see&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For this love is forbidden&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forbidden for me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But love shows in strange ways&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ways it cannot be disguised&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This flame burns strong&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inspite of all the storms&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know we are not playing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The games we usually play&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know we are not saying&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The things we usually say&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know we are not feeling&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The stuff we usually feel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we try to deny it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By going separate ways&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You think you can resist this&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You think you can hide from me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you can't fight Destiny&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why cant you see?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't think this is an empty prophecy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because wherever you go&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She will lead you to me...........&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14765728-113195647266029842?l=myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/113195647266029842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14765728&amp;postID=113195647266029842' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/113195647266029842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/113195647266029842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/2005/11/cant-fight-love.html' title='Can&apos;t fight love'/><author><name>Misunderstood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08952671762531711996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14765728.post-112522038642609496</id><published>2005-08-28T01:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-28T02:13:07.553-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What is love?</title><content type='html'>We are living in a very cynical world. Everybody is hurt, everybody has been used and abused. People have given up on the goodness of other people and love is just an illusion that disappears as soon as you come near it. So essentially we are a society of chasers, we like to chase what seems hard to get and as soon as we get them, we secretly celebrate the conquest, take a pit-stop to refuel and move on to the next one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is also a world where we question the very institution called marriage. An institution that everyone in our generation wants to be a part of but as soon as they enroll, they immediately want a refund.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the world where we get bored easily because we have so many options, so many temptations, so little regard for morals and ethics, loyalty is a myth, lust is the truth, eternity can be sought in the present.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The idea of marriage is more and more resembling a good business plan with very clear exit strategies. Marriage has just become a business deal and love is not the unit of transaction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gone are the days when boy tells girl, "I love you" and the girl would just believe and they would end up getting married and having a family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is an age where the girl would ask, "Why do you love me?" ,"What made you fall in love with me?", "Since when have you been experiencing these feelings for me?", "Are you sure you are in love with me or is it just a passing fancy because you have no other options?"or better still "Do you believe in pre-nups?" Its almost as if love was a terrible infectious disease that needed to be kept in check instead of celebrated..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when I was asked to describe my symptoms of heartache recently I did not know how to answer..because how does one describe a symptom as abstract as love? Love might be overrated but lets face it the whole world is driven by love or the lack of it. Love is the only thing that can make a sane person go insane and an insane person seem charming. Love is like yellow light, makes even drab things look good. Love is the kind of thing that makes a mathematician write poetry and a poet read the Financial Times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really do not know how to describe love in todays context because we are living in a different world. Love is very big word but it is also a very short one. Its the way you look at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I can come up with is love is sticky like glue. Love is the kind of thing that makes you wanna stick to someone or something for some vague reason that your usually sharp brain could comprehend even if you are from different worlds, even if you agree to disagree on most things, even if you dont see that person for years, love is the glue that makes you change your form seamlessly for that other person, even as years go by and you are not the hunk you used to be or she is not the gorgeous girl that stopped you in your tracks, you still want to wake with this person, argue about who hogged the sheets, toss a coin to find out who makes breakfast for whom and get through the day thinking "What would I do without you?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14765728-112522038642609496?l=myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/112522038642609496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14765728&amp;postID=112522038642609496' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112522038642609496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112522038642609496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/2005/08/what-is-love.html' title='What is love?'/><author><name>Misunderstood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08952671762531711996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14765728.post-112521722018644663</id><published>2005-08-28T01:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-28T01:20:23.303-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Destiny's Child</title><content type='html'>I came from nowhere&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I am somewhere&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow I will be everywhere...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14765728-112521722018644663?l=myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/112521722018644663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14765728&amp;postID=112521722018644663' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112521722018644663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112521722018644663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/2005/08/destinys-child.html' title='Destiny&apos;s Child'/><author><name>Misunderstood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08952671762531711996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14765728.post-112521596679468786</id><published>2005-08-28T00:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-28T00:59:26.800-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Last man standing..</title><content type='html'>Sometimes in life to be the last one standing all you need is a strong mind and very strong legs..And I know I have them both..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will tell you how this story ends..I hope that you can keep up with me...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14765728-112521596679468786?l=myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/112521596679468786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14765728&amp;postID=112521596679468786' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112521596679468786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112521596679468786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/2005/08/last-man-standing.html' title='Last man standing..'/><author><name>Misunderstood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08952671762531711996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14765728.post-112521503098625441</id><published>2005-08-28T00:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-29T03:17:27.260-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fighter</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I am a fighter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will always fight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will prove you wrong&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I will prove you right&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You thought you could read me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you were wrong&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You thought you could beat me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I am strong&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You think you can replace me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there is no one like me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The void that I leave&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;will forever be&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You think you moved on&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You think you got over me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then how come you still think&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of how your life could be with me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't you who picked up my pieces&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't you who wiped away my tears&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't you who dealt with the shadows of your lies&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it was me that you ran to when you had no hope&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it was me that you stuck with when you were broke&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was me that you derived all your inspiration&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was me that protected you from cold criticism&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its all good when its smooth sailing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its all right because you are not hurting&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you will cry out my name&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When your ship is sinking&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You will look for this woman who loved you so much&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You will crave for this girl who can heal with her touch&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You will be unable to move without her vision in sight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know you are drowning and you know you are right.. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14765728-112521503098625441?l=myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/112521503098625441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14765728&amp;postID=112521503098625441' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112521503098625441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112521503098625441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/2005/08/fighter.html' title='Fighter'/><author><name>Misunderstood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08952671762531711996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14765728.post-112426585141971586</id><published>2005-08-17T00:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-29T04:05:28.756-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Meet me halfway..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;There is me and there is you&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Totally different but totally true&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Nobody is right and nobody is wrong&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Lets not clash melodies in this song&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I take you for who you are&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;You are the brightest shining star&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I am your softer gentle side&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;With lots of passion, lots of pride&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;We have walked along different paths&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I know being together seems like a difficult task&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;There are things that I do not know&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;There are things that I have not seen&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I don't want to be ashamed to ask&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Why don't you hold my hand and walk by my side&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Together I am sure we will find a path&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;You can mould me and I will be what you want&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;But then you can't leave me because then I am yours&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I have reached out to you in the purest truest way&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;So why don't you just meet me halfway?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14765728-112426585141971586?l=myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/112426585141971586/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14765728&amp;postID=112426585141971586' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112426585141971586'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112426585141971586'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/2005/08/meet-me-halfway.html' title='Meet me halfway..'/><author><name>Misunderstood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08952671762531711996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14765728.post-112391370214646618</id><published>2005-08-12T23:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-12T23:16:39.553-07:00</updated><title type='text'>......</title><content type='html'>I sit in a corner&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hugging myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I look out of the window&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and all I see is rubble&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find questioning myself&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the very existence of my life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;wondering where did I go wrong&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and was I ever right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I have grown up&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I can read your mind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can tell what you are thinking&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can see what you deny&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This world lacks kindness&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This world lacks soul&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is everybody so cruel?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is everybody so cold?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is love heartbroken?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because everyone is lonely&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is everybody drowning&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the puddle of depth?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why am I feeling so numb?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why am I feeling so alone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I try to console myself,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This winter will soon pass&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spring will be here soon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this spring will last&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You must have hope&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You must believe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You must never give up on love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because love will come again...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14765728-112391370214646618?l=myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/112391370214646618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14765728&amp;postID=112391370214646618' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112391370214646618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112391370214646618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/2005/08/blog-post.html' title='......'/><author><name>Misunderstood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08952671762531711996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14765728.post-112373916564612281</id><published>2005-08-10T21:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-10T22:46:05.656-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Father's Daughter</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;You were my biggest re-occurring nightmare. I ran away from you many years ago..You were mean, selfish, violent, arrogant, stubborn, relentless. I was terrified of you. I could never please you. Was trying to blossom but your bitterness stunted me. I could not breathe, your presence was so overpowering..I was trying to find myself, but I lost myself being your audience, tried to find my voice but I found myself screaming inwards, I knew I had a different destiny, I knew I had to find it, but you would not let me..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I tried to run as fast as I could, as far as I could, locked all those memories away..Wanted to never come back..Tried to burn all bridges..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thought I could forget, but I could not. Your truth surrounded me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thought it was possible to hate you, but I could not. Your love guided me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thought I could just remember the things you did not do, the words you did not say, but all I could remember were the things you did for me..What you did say to me..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally could see the love you have for me..How you took care of me, how you raised me, how you never abandoned me, how you stuck to your values, principles, ideals when the whole world was losing their head and soul, your dedication, your pure and unmatched talent, your vision, how you inspired me, how you guided me even when you were not around, how you pushed me to the edge because you knew that would unlock the real me..How you carried yourself with so much pride and dignity..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It takes extreme guts, courage and sacrifice to live they way you do..I never appreciated that then but I do now and I hope I have the courage to live my life they way you live yours. Even if I could be your shadow, I would be blessed..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sorry I judged you the way I did..I was too young and ignorant to understand the message you were trying to give me..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sorry I betrayed you..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sorry I left you alone when you needed me the most.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sorry I made you cry...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sorry I called you heartless..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sorry things turned out the way they did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sorry I stole your youth..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sorry because I don't know what to do..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sorry I never appreciated that you did whatever you could for me..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sorry I took your hope away..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sorry I did not know how to tell you that I love you..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sorry I don't know why I started running in the first place..If running was to find my destiny, then I think my destiny was you in the first place...Because I found you again...It is you indeed, although its a different picture...Its a different perspective..But its you....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am older now, and maybe a little wiser too..I know what it takes to stick around, I know what it takes to make things work..I know what it takes to love and inspire..I know what it takes to be a good wife and mother..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look at myself in the mirror and I no longer fight what I see...I am my father's daughter and I am so proud to be...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&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/14765728-112373916564612281?l=myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/112373916564612281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14765728&amp;postID=112373916564612281' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112373916564612281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112373916564612281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/2005/08/my-fathers-daughter.html' title='My Father&apos;s Daughter'/><author><name>Misunderstood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08952671762531711996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14765728.post-112365955913024741</id><published>2005-08-10T00:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-29T03:36:23.726-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wishful thinking</title><content type='html'>Most people see me as a perfect example of a ruthless, career-driven, power-hungry woman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see that as my best means of survival.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rather see myself as a good companion, a wife, a mother, a support-system. I yearn for my own family. I just want to get married to someone who loves me and to someone I love and respect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahh thats simple, you must be thinking....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just wish you could step into my shoes for a day and see what it feels being me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is a rare bird that is facing extinction..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14765728-112365955913024741?l=myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/112365955913024741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14765728&amp;postID=112365955913024741' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112365955913024741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112365955913024741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/2005/08/wishful-thinking.html' title='Wishful thinking'/><author><name>Misunderstood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08952671762531711996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14765728.post-112357187233924628</id><published>2005-08-08T23:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-01-18T23:21:18.643-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Remembering Nanu uncle</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;We had just moved to our new home. After months of living in other people's houses and existing like carefree gypsies in our blue gazelle, we finally had a place to call home. Damn, it felt good. I remember how we huddled together in our only razai/rug and clung on to each other. That was the first time I felt I totally belonged. That was the first time, I felt complete and safe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were the first family to move into the colony. Work on the new complex was still ongoing.&lt;br /&gt;I was barely 10 at that point and was totally bored of playing with my dolls so I decided to explore the deserted neighborhood. Made friends with the laborer's kids. I still remember Begum, she was my partner in crime for our various escapades. We discovered a litter of new-born pups. They were sleeping on top of one another, helplessly blind, adorable and cute. Looking after them was our full time job...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the meanwhile, Dad and Mom were also discovering new things about the neighborhood. Dad bumped into his long lost friend Mr. Nanjappa who apparently were also moving into the same colony as we were and the best part was that he had two kids who were around my age- Almaz and Aparna who later became Chaklu and Poochie for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was overjoyed, I had real friends. Friends I could play with, friends with whom I could escape the drudgery of my day to day existence. Chaklu and Poochie were my best friends. Friends that showed me that joy was possible even if everything around me was grey and dismal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nanjappa uncle who I fondly addressed as Nanu uncle was the kindest and the most loving person I had ever met. He treated me as one of his kids and almost always took my side whenever we had a friendly battle. I secretly wished that Nanu uncle could be my daddy instead and I guess my Dad sensed that. Years later, Anu told me she resented that but she understood that why her dad was extra protective of me, I guess it was no secrect, I was having a tough time at home and escaping to be with the Nanjappa household was the only bright spot in my day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was 16, I decided to leave Mumbai and relocate to Singapore because I really wanted to have a fair and honest shot in finding my destiny. My dad was livid and wanted to break all ties with me but I was adamant. I knew what I wanted (although at that point it was a hazy picture) and I was hell-bent. After all, I am my father's daughter, being stubborn runs in our genes! Nanu uncle was not keeping very well at that point but none the less he encouraged me to go to Singapore to find my dreams. He told me that my Dad would come around. Most parents do..His parting gift to me was a key chain. Keys that would open doors of success and happiness for me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I was shit scared. I was an innocent teenager who did not know how life was in a different suburb in Mumbai and here I was packed to leave the country, with no money in my pockets, no solid plan, no clue and above all with no blessings from the man who created me. All I knew was that I had to make it, I could not screw up, failure was not an option, I had to successful and I had to be someone that my dad would be proud of. I only had my dreams, hope and Nanu uncle's blind faith for company and so I did not feel alone. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;And then one horrible day, I got a phone call from my mom. She had bad news. Nanu uncle had succumbed to his illness and he was no more with us. I was stunned. It was as if someone had punched me really hard in my stomach. It could not be true, and my emotions were over-whelming. I mean all I could think in my kiddy brain was that if Nanu uncle had to leave us, he would have definitely come to me in my dreams to say good-bye. He loved me like his own daughter, he could not have left without saying good-bye to me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;This question always lurked in my head for almost a decade now. Everytime, there is good news to share, I always wish that Nanu uncle was around to hear it because he believed that I could do it. Everytime I speak to Chaklu and Poochie, we almost always regress to our kiddy days and fondly remember how he intervened when Chaklu cheated hopelessly in monopoly or when we all sat down and watched movies and when he used to take us out for a treat. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Although things have become considerably better with my Dad, but Nanu uncle will always have a special place in my heart.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;And then all of a sudden, it happened last night. I saw him in my dream. He was smiling and joking in his regular fashion to somebody. Chaklu was singing and Poochie was playing the drums ( hey its a dream!) Topsy the dog was barking his heart out as if to contribute to the musical pandemonium. Bubun aunty and deeda (maternal grandmother in Bengali) were in the kitchen taking care of the food department. It seemed to be like a Nanjappa family re-union. My eyes went back to Nanu uncle and to the person he was talking to. I looked at the person closely. She was a young girl. And then it dawned upon me. That little girl was the 10 year old me.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;And then it suddenly came to me, Nanu uncle never considered me as an outsider. To him, I was a part of the family......&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I miss you Nanu uncle. We all do....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14765728-112357187233924628?l=myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/112357187233924628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14765728&amp;postID=112357187233924628' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112357187233924628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112357187233924628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/2005/08/remembering-nanu-uncle.html' title='Remembering Nanu uncle'/><author><name>Misunderstood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08952671762531711996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14765728.post-112350242456615556</id><published>2005-08-08T04:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-08T05:00:24.573-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Job Description</title><content type='html'>Who am I?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am your muse&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do I do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bring out the best in you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do I say?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes a whisper&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do I spin?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A comfort zone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do I bring?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peace within&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do I seek?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your well-being&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What would I do without you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing.........&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14765728-112350242456615556?l=myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/112350242456615556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14765728&amp;postID=112350242456615556' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112350242456615556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112350242456615556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/2005/08/job-description.html' title='Job Description'/><author><name>Misunderstood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08952671762531711996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14765728.post-112349807742720238</id><published>2005-08-08T03:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-08T03:47:57.433-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I want more...</title><content type='html'>I want more&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I am worth it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want more&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I deserve it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want more&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I have earned it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want more&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I can handle it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want more&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you know it..............&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14765728-112349807742720238?l=myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/112349807742720238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14765728&amp;postID=112349807742720238' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112349807742720238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112349807742720238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/2005/08/i-want-more.html' title='I want more...'/><author><name>Misunderstood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08952671762531711996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14765728.post-112348293278771714</id><published>2005-08-07T23:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-08T02:13:28.700-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What's love got to do with it?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Most people feel that love is the most important thing to make a marriage work. I think it is unconditional respect for each other that acts like glue to stick two individuals happily in an institution called marriage. I think it takes stamina to make things work and above all one must have the conviction to make things work. One must believe in the other...No matter what..Nothing must shake that belief...No amount of failure, no amount of disappointment, each fight should make the relationship stronger...Each day should make the bond unbreakable..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I had a faint idea of who I was going to end up with as a 5 year old. As I grew older, that picture became more pronounced more defined. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a person, I follow my own personal caste system. I like a lot of people, love many people because of their qualities but I could never respect them for some reason or the other. Maybe they never commanded respect or maybe they never deserved it in the first place. Respect is a totally different ball game. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I respect people who have walked on the darker side of life, experienced truth in its most darkest and morbid moments and have come back to light. There is something so attractive about a reformed man, cause he knows exactly what it takes to find the truth.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When I respect a person, I love them unconditionally irrespective of the fact that they could be broke, unsuccessful, annoying, temperamental and extremely hard to live with.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When I respect a person, I would listen to every harsh truth they had noticed about me and take immediate action. Strangely it would not hurt me even if they ripped me apart with their words because I know that they can also put me back together.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When I respect a person, I would put him before I put myself effortlessly.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When I respect a person, it would not sting my ego to change myself for him.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When I respect a person, I would believe in what he believes, like what he likes and hate what he hates without even having a question.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When I respect a person, I never doubt their capabilities even if the ship appears to be sinking.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When I respect a person, I never would have to tell them what they ought to do. They already have such a keen sense of responsibility..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;When I respect a person, it means that I love them from the bottom of my heart unconditionally..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;All said and done, I know what I want...I know that I want it bad enough..I know what I am wishing for..and so I know when I want something that bad, I always get it... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Sounds arrogant I know..but hey you always knew that about me...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;In life to be the last one standing, you need to have a strong mind and strong legs. The rest comes very easy...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14765728-112348293278771714?l=myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/112348293278771714/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14765728&amp;postID=112348293278771714' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112348293278771714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112348293278771714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/2005/08/whats-love-got-to-do-with-it.html' title='What&apos;s love got to do with it?'/><author><name>Misunderstood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08952671762531711996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14765728.post-112287961357406813</id><published>2005-07-31T22:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-08-01T00:00:13.580-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mortal</title><content type='html'>You reached out to me in a strange way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe you could sense the despair&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Broke the ice with messages from the heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe you knew this would last&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You sent me flowers when life was a thorn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You loved me when I felt scorn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You rescued me from numb grief&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You managed to make me believe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You crowned me Queen when I was banished&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You made me feel when my senses had vanished&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You brought a smile where tears moved in&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Managed to comfort the child within&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can I not be moved by you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can I not feel for you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are a man of virtue&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in my own queer way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mortal I do love you.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14765728-112287961357406813?l=myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/112287961357406813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14765728&amp;postID=112287961357406813' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112287961357406813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112287961357406813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/2005/07/mortal.html' title='Mortal'/><author><name>Misunderstood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08952671762531711996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14765728.post-112283590913689527</id><published>2005-07-31T11:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-31T22:43:42.670-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't miss it...</title><content type='html'>I don’t miss it if I leave it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t want it if I need it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Living in denial&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is a way of survival&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Walked away from so many things&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before they could be taken away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Desire is a terrible disease&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That manifests itself in curious ways&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is wonderful the way you read me like a book&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don’t know what to say, don’t know where to look&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s terrible that my face reflects my soul&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even my thoughts are not my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes strength can be a weakness&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes silence can be speech&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes justice can be unfair&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes love runs from those who seek&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a different place, at a different time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe you and I will meet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And maybe you will tell me things&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That I always believed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Till then lets wait and see&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The twists and turns of life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How much can you run and hide&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How much can you deny&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The truth of you and I...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14765728-112283590913689527?l=myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/112283590913689527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14765728&amp;postID=112283590913689527' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112283590913689527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112283590913689527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/2005/07/i-dont-miss-it.html' title='I don&apos;t miss it...'/><author><name>Misunderstood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08952671762531711996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14765728.post-112279822782207275</id><published>2005-07-31T01:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-31T11:34:24.083-07:00</updated><title type='text'>These are a few of my favourite things...</title><content type='html'>In my many desperate attempts to amuse myself, I have stumbled upon these things that make me smile :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watching toddlers take their first step.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hearing my dad play the piano while I am walking up the stairs to our home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long drives/ walks on the beach&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a secluded lake&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Solitude&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loud music&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A good book&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A funny movie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A coffee with a chocolate chip cookie on a friday morning&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cooking for friends&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A good business plan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I close a big deal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Working out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friends&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peace and quiet and solitude&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being heard without speaking a word&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A good hair day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking through old photo albums&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talking to an old school friend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being anonymous&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being known&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I am in synch with my best friend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tinkle of my mom's bangles&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The grey in my dad's hair&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brother's toothless grin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A cold winter morning when you can just snuggle in bed with someone you love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A big hug&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sting's Desert Rose&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14765728-112279822782207275?l=myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/112279822782207275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14765728&amp;postID=112279822782207275' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112279822782207275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112279822782207275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/2005/07/these-are-few-of-my-favourite-things.html' title='These are a few of my favourite things...'/><author><name>Misunderstood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08952671762531711996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14765728.post-112274832596248003</id><published>2005-07-30T11:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-30T11:32:05.970-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Running on Empty</title><content type='html'>Have been running for a decade now..Have been my own parent..have been my guiding star..have been very driven..was very aware of the fact that if I screwed up I would have no safety net to fall on..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hear my peers having animated conversations about their teenage years and I sit and wonder what was I doing at that age..where did my wonder years go? will I have enough stories to tell my children? do I have enough memories of how I used to be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a child, dreams were my only escape and I escaped alot....I had a picture of me..of how I was going to turn out..I am that picture now..its a mixed feeling..I have great respect for that little girl because she believed that she could do the impossible..and she did...and now I have turned into this person that doubts everything about me...maybe I need a fresh set of impossible dreams and I will start believing again...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been a muse for so many people..I guess I need to be my own muse now..So dont get me wrong if you cannot find me..I am a work in progress...constant evolution is my trait..dont be surprised if you cannot recognize me...its not your fault..I have changed..yet again..........&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14765728-112274832596248003?l=myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/112274832596248003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14765728&amp;postID=112274832596248003' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112274832596248003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112274832596248003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/2005/07/running-on-empty.html' title='Running on Empty'/><author><name>Misunderstood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08952671762531711996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14765728.post-112274736220660294</id><published>2005-07-30T11:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-30T11:16:02.206-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I am going through a period of absolute numbness. Days are just flying by like fine sand escaping the grasps of my palm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the only thing that makes me feel anything is kindness bestowed upon me by friends, colleagues, acquaintances and even strangers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a big thankyou to everyone who has touched me with a smile, good advice, offered me comfort, and made me believe that it was ok to be me....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of the day, its kindness that keeps this world going...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14765728-112274736220660294?l=myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/112274736220660294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14765728&amp;postID=112274736220660294' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112274736220660294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112274736220660294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/2005/07/i-am-going-through-period-of-absolute.html' title=''/><author><name>Misunderstood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08952671762531711996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14765728.post-112228256120295722</id><published>2005-07-25T01:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-25T05:20:24.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoughts...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Am feeling really angry.. But then everything gets to me..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like crying.. Tears have always been there for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish I could stop feeling the way I feel about everything thats happening in my life. Wish I could learn how to be happy with what I had..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am feeling homesick and I dont even know where home is. Do not feel the sense of belonging. But its hard to achieve that when you want to belong but dont want to feel possessed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to be comforted, I want a big hug, I want a warm blanket, I want to love and I want to be loved..I want someone to tell me that I will be fine and I want to believe them when they say that.I want to go home to someone..I want to hold hands and walk in the park..I dont want to sleep alone..I want to be touched..I want to connect..I want to express myself..I want him to understand..I want companionship..I want to be heard without speaking a word.. I want to keep my identity and yet lose control.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Why dont you let me love you? Why do you want to drive me away? What is it in me that makes you want to do that? Am I not good enough for you? Am I not woman enough for you? Dont  I deserve to get some answers especially when I have asked you the questions?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do I feel so many things? Why does everything get magnified and blown out of proportion? What does the artist in me want to create?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I am paying the price of being ambitious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I am paying the price of being a gypsy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I am paying the price for being so non-stick. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I guess I am paying the price for speaking my mind.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I guess I am paying the price for being just me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;I guess I am paying the price for being my father's daughter...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14765728-112228256120295722?l=myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/112228256120295722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14765728&amp;postID=112228256120295722' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112228256120295722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112228256120295722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/2005/07/thoughts.html' title='Thoughts...'/><author><name>Misunderstood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08952671762531711996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14765728.post-112222601091802268</id><published>2005-07-24T10:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-24T10:26:50.920-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Twilight</title><content type='html'>"Are we compatible?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pondered about his question..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are like day and night, two completely different individuals, two very different phenomena. We are in perfect synch with each other and yet we exist in two very different zones.But then there is also a phenomenon called twilight, where day and night succumb to each other and lock themselves in a tight embrace. A state which cannot be clearly defined but it exists all the same.I wondered if we could achieve a state of constant twilight...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14765728-112222601091802268?l=myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/112222601091802268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14765728&amp;postID=112222601091802268' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112222601091802268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112222601091802268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/2005/07/twilight.html' title='Twilight'/><author><name>Misunderstood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08952671762531711996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14765728.post-112222573081705420</id><published>2005-07-24T10:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2005-07-25T04:56:13.576-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Parallel Lines</title><content type='html'>You and me are like parallel lines&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That run in harmony side by side&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its so amazing how beautifully we co-exist&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But if we meet, will we collide?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14765728-112222573081705420?l=myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/feeds/112222573081705420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=14765728&amp;postID=112222573081705420' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112222573081705420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14765728/posts/default/112222573081705420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myfathersdaughter.blogspot.com/2005/07/parallel-lines.html' title='Parallel Lines'/><author><name>Misunderstood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08952671762531711996</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
