<?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-549107104087144423</id><updated>2012-02-23T19:23:15.146+08:00</updated><title type='text'>No Talent</title><subtitle type='html'>and no luck either</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://noluckeither.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/549107104087144423/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://noluckeither.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>noir</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06201842935221506896</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_Knoc6Wnawdw/R_WwmFP2FeI/AAAAAAAAAAc/GcNu9ahqo44/S220/P16-02-08_20.37%5B01%5D.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>5</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-549107104087144423.post-5630610035808800252</id><published>2012-02-20T01:40:00.037+08:00</published><updated>2012-02-22T18:27:23.037+08:00</updated><title type='text'>now look</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://imgboot.com/images/noir/boy.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever wonder how sexiness is being defined?&lt;br /&gt;For me, almost never. It's not something that dictates my universe, nor is it something that will be tested at work. Not when I have to pay for food, and probably not when I'm held at gunpoint by random robbers.&lt;br /&gt;I just don't give a fucking damn, and if need be, there is always the dictionary:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: #a5a6a6;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;sexiness - amorousness: the arousal of feelings of sexual desire&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh...... (Now you can bet I'll forget that in the next 20 minutes. Start timing!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had lost my ability to genuinely sense sexiness for the longest time. So when it occurred recently in the unprotected nakedness of a public fitting room, it kind of came across like being suddenly slapped awake with a pang of amorousness. In my utmost bewilderment coupled with snippets of panic, I fell into some sort of delirious, yabbering trance. It was embarrassing to say the least, and it left me pondering if I just hit puberty at the age of near 30 in H&amp;M.    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truth be told, there are plenty of very good-looking people floating around us everyday. Be it on magazines, television, billboards, or the internet. I see them as much as others do, but never really feel like I desire them in my sexual escapades. I guess my definition for how sexy an item is depends a lot on its association with my heart and my life. If it's not something that I love, something that will readily accept my love and reciprocate feelings in return, it will not be something that I include in my lewd and erotic fantasies hidden in the depths of my dirty mind.&lt;br /&gt;Explains why this bitch doesn't surf porn.... nor fap. (Damn, I really ought to love myself a little bit more)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I met someone I love, and he calls me "老婆".&lt;br /&gt;I found myself eyeing him from every corner whenever he is not looking my way, sniping his back and slim waist with my lustful gaze while tormented by a troop of horned devils in tutus dancing in me head chanting, "sexy hay yo sexeh isn't it babe???"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a horrible feeling I have chosen to drown in.... loving you so much I'm ready to hop into any ditch in just my knickers to prove a fucking point. (no pun, for decency's sake)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #ff376f;"&gt;look at yourself, you silly old cow&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://imgboot.com/images/noir/nt190212.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #ff376f;"&gt;you just stole every bit I have to offer away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"u made it sound so weird..."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"ya wad. &lt;br /&gt;ppl wake up then do things.&lt;br /&gt;i wake up to myself in the middle of doing something."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="https://twitter.com/share" class="twitter-share-button" data-url="http://tiny.cc/orzny" data-via="SmokinWallet" data-lang="ja" data-count="none"&gt;ツイート&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;script&gt;!function(d,s,id){var js,fjs=d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0];if(!d.getElementById(id)){js=d.createElement(s);js.id=id;js.src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js";fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js,fjs);}}(document,"script","twitter-wjs");&lt;/script&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/549107104087144423-5630610035808800252?l=noluckeither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/549107104087144423/posts/default/5630610035808800252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/549107104087144423/posts/default/5630610035808800252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://noluckeither.blogspot.com/2012/02/now-look.html' title='now look'/><author><name>noir</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06201842935221506896</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_Knoc6Wnawdw/R_WwmFP2FeI/AAAAAAAAAAc/GcNu9ahqo44/S220/P16-02-08_20.37%5B01%5D.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-549107104087144423.post-3448562749429005443</id><published>2012-02-09T01:31:00.030+08:00</published><updated>2012-02-22T14:43:09.777+08:00</updated><title type='text'>你在做什么？</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://imgboot.com/images/noir/seenospeaknone.gif"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;作工，作饭，还是做“啵”？&lt;br /&gt;是做对做错还是不知所措？&lt;br /&gt;瘦的弱不经风，胖的被笑似恐龙&lt;br /&gt;恶意如果有借口当作游戏&lt;br /&gt;好意不受明解视为假意&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;掏心吐肺言心事是过忠于自我&lt;br /&gt;“以身作则”还没听说过&lt;br /&gt;信任翩翩离家出走&lt;br /&gt;前抚后捅是求生之道&lt;br /&gt;“独自成长”是逆变之后&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;爱得太深是傻不理智&lt;br /&gt;爱得理智是你不在爱&lt;br /&gt;受宠的显是有心机&lt;br /&gt;铁定爱骗善良人，专拜金&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;有口难言，行动恰是透明&lt;br /&gt;只因视儿不见&lt;br /&gt;惟怪选择性聆听&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #a5a6a6;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;要走的就走，该留的上哪儿寻觅？&lt;br /&gt;一万支废柴里寻留一支笔&lt;br /&gt;我要的是让我写下你的名字的道具&lt;br /&gt;不是燃烧我们美好回忆的能力&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #ff376f;"&gt;什么东西是世上最难做&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://imgboot.com/images/noir/nt090212.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #ff376f;"&gt;但大家都不知不觉天天在拼了老命做的？&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;i&gt;“那是什么?” . .    . .&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;i&gt;“人吧” . .    . . . . .&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="https://twitter.com/share" class="twitter-share-button" data-url="http://tiny.cc/5rxfj" data-via="SmokinWallet" data-lang="ja" data-count="none"&gt;ツイート&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;script&gt;!function(d,s,id){var js,fjs=d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0];if(!d.getElementById(id)){js=d.createElement(s);js.id=id;js.src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js";fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js,fjs);}}(document,"script","twitter-wjs");&lt;/script&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/549107104087144423-3448562749429005443?l=noluckeither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/549107104087144423/posts/default/3448562749429005443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/549107104087144423/posts/default/3448562749429005443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://noluckeither.blogspot.com/2012/02/blog-post_1469.html' title='你在做什么？'/><author><name>noir</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06201842935221506896</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_Knoc6Wnawdw/R_WwmFP2FeI/AAAAAAAAAAc/GcNu9ahqo44/S220/P16-02-08_20.37%5B01%5D.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-549107104087144423.post-6168499456096243121</id><published>2012-02-08T01:02:00.012+08:00</published><updated>2012-02-22T14:43:28.373+08:00</updated><title type='text'>恋爱症无情</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://imgboot.com/images/noir/msoconfused.gif"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;一路走来，很奇怪的流失了心仪的[爱你-黏你-嫁你]式初恋。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;也罢。下一个就是你啦。 One more try, baby.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;就这样，已经试到第四次了。天啊，你真他妈的累不累呗？？&lt;br /&gt;恋爱了这么多，每一个你都想嫁。。。但没有一个把你娶回家。&lt;br /&gt;付出了这么多，除了偶尔自己能偷偷赞自己以外好像也没有什么能留住这一段段脆弱的爱情故事。&lt;br /&gt;段段都已分手收尾，朋友延续。&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;以前有许多专家告诉过焦头烂额的我，要以理性的态度谈恋爱。&lt;br /&gt;我想，&lt;i&gt;那不如不谈吧。&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;不是我不聪明。也不是我不小心。只是在爱得轰轰烈烈的恋情里，&lt;span style="color: #a5a6a6;"&gt;能挑起理智来主持心情的人应该只有三种：&lt;br /&gt;1）拍戏人&lt;br /&gt;2）一脚踏两船，并双脚都动用的贱人 &lt;br /&gt;3）所谓的“专家” （本小姐理解为比较爱自己的人）&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;我觉得我三种都不是。叫我怎么去理智恋爱？&lt;br /&gt;“爱”一个字已经很不简单了，到底是哪个猪头当儿戏般在前后外加“恋”和“情”？？&lt;br /&gt;好恐怖的组合，即困难，又叫人受尽波折。&lt;br /&gt;要恋爱有时候真的好比讨老天给你活着下地狱，然后在你奄奄一息的数秒前一把蛮力把你托上天庭。&lt;br /&gt;还没来得及喘气又一脚把你踹下人间。 &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;真他妈的一点都不好玩。&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;现在经验需然充沛，但还是少了理智。 &lt;br /&gt;我看我真正需要的是努力和运气。&lt;br /&gt;努力：让他爱着我&lt;br /&gt;运气：让他适合我&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;span style="color: #ff376f;"&gt;去你的理智&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="300" height="225" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/z3yvf34MWsg?fs=1" frameborder="0" allowFullScreen=""&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #ff376f;"&gt;其实分量适当，有一点点就过关了&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;i&gt;“把每天都當作紀念日　把自己當作紀念品”&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;i&gt;随时随地都在预备这自己如何去接受爱离开的多心悲观恋爱症状&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="https://twitter.com/share" class="twitter-share-button" data-url="http://tiny.cc/6d1yi" data-via="SmokinWallet" data-lang="ja" data-count="none"&gt;ツイート&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;script&gt;!function(d,s,id){var js,fjs=d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0];if(!d.getElementById(id)){js=d.createElement(s);js.id=id;js.src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js";fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js,fjs);}}(document,"script","twitter-wjs");&lt;/script&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/549107104087144423-6168499456096243121?l=noluckeither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/549107104087144423/posts/default/6168499456096243121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/549107104087144423/posts/default/6168499456096243121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://noluckeither.blogspot.com/2012/02/blog-post.html' title='恋爱症无情'/><author><name>noir</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06201842935221506896</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_Knoc6Wnawdw/R_WwmFP2FeI/AAAAAAAAAAc/GcNu9ahqo44/S220/P16-02-08_20.37%5B01%5D.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/z3yvf34MWsg/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-549107104087144423.post-5260638909701053979</id><published>2012-02-05T09:42:00.021+08:00</published><updated>2012-02-22T14:43:52.676+08:00</updated><title type='text'>so.... will you</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://imgboot.com/images/noir/marryme2.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have always had a fear for babies, marriage, and sticking around anyone other than myself and a mirror for too long. I can never truly understand why people marry each other after dating for a while. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It has to be the pressure from kins and family.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I'm Asian, and back where I came from, family members tend to take it courageously upon their shoulders to be responsible for your unchanged marital status by the time you hit your late twenties. It's a FOC service which you have been irrevocably opted into ever since you were born. It's a force to be reckoned with; One where no amount of rampant display of single-hood happiness can penetrate the stubbornness to want to make you somebody's spouse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Maybe it's the next step from dating cos things get boring?&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe it's someone holding someone else with one end of a gun for a mistake that will only come terrorize the both of them nine months later...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's intriguing, this whole I-wanna-marry-you business. It's perplexing, and it drains the juice from my limited, skinny brain. Then came a couple of late, late nights from the days of sweet, sweet dating like there's no tomorrow....&lt;br /&gt;I found myself sitting in a cab alone, grabbing on to my mobile phone and desperately texting the entire trip home. Barely grasping grammar and spelling in my insobriety, parroting what I felt in my heart over and over every four lines into the conversation.&lt;br /&gt;Before I knew it, it's time to pay up. I dished out my wallet and tapped my card generously on the cabby's shoulder. Wait a minute. &lt;br /&gt;I am not the richest of all girlfriends. Neither am I in the mood to evict myself from the life of my love one. So why am I paying to get away from him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my wonderment of what the heck was I doing, I stumbled out of the cab which sped off milliseconds after I shut its door... ... with my phone sandwiched somewhere between the puke-stained, synthetic, navy folds of its passenger seat beeping a "I love you" I shall never get to see. &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Lost my phone. &lt;br /&gt;Lost my ID, wallet, keys, and almost every other important thing that doesn't grow on my body.&lt;br /&gt;But I found my answer to marriage. It's the practical solution for something purely emotional. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: #a5a6a6;"&gt;I want to wake up next to you every time after I go to sleep, and carry on this amazing date we are having for the next 50 years without having to leave you for a place I am supposed to belong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;I think we belong together&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this, I believe, is what's going on for couples just before they realise it's time to marry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #ff376f;"&gt;脸对脸，拍张照。1，2，3，记得笑。&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://imgboot.com/images/noir/050212.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #ff376f;"&gt;其实和对的人一起拍照，是没有什么得特地去切忌的。。。 尤其是微笑。&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Someday you will not need to :)"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;i&gt;They say it's not about the destination, it's the journey. &lt;br /&gt;I can't help feeling it's about everything for us. &lt;br /&gt;What a lovely journey, and I can't wait to arrive at the start of the aisle with you.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="https://twitter.com/share" class="twitter-share-button" data-url="http://tiny.cc/7s1js" data-via="SmokinWallet" data-lang="ja" data-count="none"&gt;ツイート&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;script&gt;!function(d,s,id){var js,fjs=d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0];if(!d.getElementById(id)){js=d.createElement(s);js.id=id;js.src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js";fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js,fjs);}}(document,"script","twitter-wjs");&lt;/script&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/549107104087144423-5260638909701053979?l=noluckeither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/549107104087144423/posts/default/5260638909701053979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/549107104087144423/posts/default/5260638909701053979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://noluckeither.blogspot.com/2012/02/i-have-always-had-fear-for-babies.html' title='so.... will you'/><author><name>noir</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06201842935221506896</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_Knoc6Wnawdw/R_WwmFP2FeI/AAAAAAAAAAc/GcNu9ahqo44/S220/P16-02-08_20.37%5B01%5D.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-549107104087144423.post-5766618345983734800</id><published>2012-02-04T07:12:00.008+08:00</published><updated>2012-02-22T14:44:11.661+08:00</updated><title type='text'>the invisible man</title><content type='html'>&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://imgboot.com/images/noir/finally.gif"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;What a way it is, to begin a blog entry by quoting an illegitimate blog entry from last year. God knows what kind of emo-bug bit me on that lovey dovey night of glistening full moon and dating couples dithering every corner of my lonely Bishan park.&lt;br /&gt;Just an out-of-the-blue emotional rant stored within my battered iPhone, unwittingly a premonition for what's coming my way 3 months down the road. Fate, you bastard. When even I, don't get myself....  you certainly do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #a5a6a6;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know how you behave and how you look like&lt;br /&gt;I can identify with your scent&lt;br /&gt;Your breathing and your footsteps&lt;br /&gt;You will cry for me when I'm in pain&lt;br /&gt;Laugh with me when I'm in joy&lt;br /&gt;Share a secret candy on the train&lt;br /&gt;Text me nonsense at any time of the day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We will travel to the most boring places there can ever be&lt;br /&gt;And make it seem like a theme park&lt;br /&gt;You'll write me poems on serviettes&lt;br /&gt;And sneak them into my handbag&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come hug me after we fall asleep&lt;br /&gt;And hug me tighter when I start to snore&lt;br /&gt;You'll appreciate my actions &lt;br /&gt;and will never once question what each one is for&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'll grab me when I'm least prepared&lt;br /&gt;Leave me a present every time you head out the door&lt;br /&gt;Sing me a song and drop me a ring&lt;br /&gt;Go down on your knees and say "marry me!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can see you going about in circles, trying to make me happy&lt;br /&gt;Cos there is no one else you see when you see me&lt;br /&gt;I know how you look like, and who you are.&lt;br /&gt;I just need you to come my way&lt;br /&gt;So I can walk up and say "hey"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's reaching the end of the road and you are very late...&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I should have told you&lt;br /&gt;I really hate to wait&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;12th Sep 2011.&lt;br /&gt;To the very late, or invisible man&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hence I realised, as much as it takes for a man to remain invisible, the same amount of voodoo must have happened on the party whose job is to spot him. And eventually I learn.... it really is better to be late than never.&lt;br /&gt;Thank you for showing up afterall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #ff376f;"&gt;it's amusing how invisible you have always been to me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://imgboot.com/images/noir/nt040212.png"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #ff376f;"&gt;and all of a sudden you are the only thing I see&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"我喜欢你啦"&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;i&gt;因为我不能这么轻易的骗你，骗我。&lt;br /&gt;因为我知道我会一辈子逗留在台上的那五分钟，迷失自己。&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="https://twitter.com/share" class="twitter-share-button" data-url="http://tiny.cc/0jqho" data-via="SmokinWallet" data-lang="ja" data-count="none"&gt;ツイート&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;script&gt;!function(d,s,id){var js,fjs=d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0];if(!d.getElementById(id)){js=d.createElement(s);js.id=id;js.src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js";fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js,fjs);}}(document,"script","twitter-wjs");&lt;/script&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/549107104087144423-5766618345983734800?l=noluckeither.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/549107104087144423/posts/default/5766618345983734800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/549107104087144423/posts/default/5766618345983734800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://noluckeither.blogspot.com/2012/02/invisible-man.html' title='the invisible man'/><author><name>noir</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06201842935221506896</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_Knoc6Wnawdw/R_WwmFP2FeI/AAAAAAAAAAc/GcNu9ahqo44/S220/P16-02-08_20.37%5B01%5D.jpg'/></author></entry></feed>
