<?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-7013964456934199371</id><updated>2011-04-21T11:12:18.357-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Drop Off</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dropoff.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7013964456934199371/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dropoff.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Scrambled</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18388717665427144678</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>7</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7013964456934199371.post-6172238337422489472</id><published>2011-03-21T15:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-03-21T15:44:12.845-07:00</updated><title type='text'>March 21</title><content type='html'>It's getting really hard..I've been very lonely lately. I don't want to tell him that because I want him to finish. I couldn't even start to understand what it's like for him. He's very strong for doing this. I'm confused emotionally. It's hard to not have him around but I'm getting used to it and that's scary too. I sit waiting for a phone call that I never know will come. This is harder then I ever thought it could be. It seems like everday is harder and harder..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7013964456934199371-6172238337422489472?l=dropoff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dropoff.blogspot.com/feeds/6172238337422489472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dropoff.blogspot.com/2011/03/march-21.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7013964456934199371/posts/default/6172238337422489472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7013964456934199371/posts/default/6172238337422489472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dropoff.blogspot.com/2011/03/march-21.html' title='March 21'/><author><name>Scrambled</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18388717665427144678</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-7013964456934199371.post-5686908935240419184</id><published>2011-03-10T19:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-10T19:14:23.324-08:00</updated><title type='text'>March 10th</title><content type='html'>It's funny how precious time can be. Once we met we wanted every second of everyday with each other. If it wasn't physically it was through cyberspace. We were so consumed with each other, nothing else mattered. As time went on things got different. We spent soo much time together, it was never anything new. We took our time together for granted. Worrying about what to do in our "spare time". Now, we have no time to spend together and would give anything for it. Even if it were just five miniutes to see each other.It's funny how things change. I've never really been&amp;nbsp;100% sure that I've wanted something before. I want this. I am positive of that. I miss him more than anything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7013964456934199371-5686908935240419184?l=dropoff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dropoff.blogspot.com/feeds/5686908935240419184/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dropoff.blogspot.com/2011/03/march-10th.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7013964456934199371/posts/default/5686908935240419184'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7013964456934199371/posts/default/5686908935240419184'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dropoff.blogspot.com/2011/03/march-10th.html' title='March 10th'/><author><name>Scrambled</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18388717665427144678</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-7013964456934199371.post-3927380396892160029</id><published>2011-03-04T14:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-10T19:14:47.520-08:00</updated><title type='text'>March 4th</title><content type='html'>I will never act like my parents when I am older. I do not want a relationship like that. I will always appreciate the things he does for me, no matter how small. There's a difference between courtesy and caring. Both are lacking for them. Their emptiness and separation are contagious. It's not a good atmosphere. I never want to have that with him. If I ever take those vows I promise myself to them, till' death do us part. Being away from someone makes you appreciate them a whole lot more. I would kill to have his company now. Or for him to meet me, lay with me, hold my hand. We do those things because we both want to, and even if the other doesn't I know we would do it to make the other person happy. That's love. And I cherish every moment while I have it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7013964456934199371-3927380396892160029?l=dropoff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dropoff.blogspot.com/feeds/3927380396892160029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dropoff.blogspot.com/2011/03/day-four_04.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7013964456934199371/posts/default/3927380396892160029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7013964456934199371/posts/default/3927380396892160029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dropoff.blogspot.com/2011/03/day-four_04.html' title='March 4th'/><author><name>Scrambled</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18388717665427144678</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-7013964456934199371.post-4987321402414205293</id><published>2011-03-03T21:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-10T19:15:03.536-08:00</updated><title type='text'>March 3rd</title><content type='html'>Every day gets harder and harder. It's hitting me now. I'm started to appreciate having him around a lot more. I guess having him around me everyday I took his company for granted. Time is precious. Seeing and hearing other couples is starting to make me jealous..I keep thinking that after this..idk how long it's going to be until I can see him again. Time is confusing...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7013964456934199371-4987321402414205293?l=dropoff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dropoff.blogspot.com/feeds/4987321402414205293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dropoff.blogspot.com/2011/03/day-four.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7013964456934199371/posts/default/4987321402414205293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7013964456934199371/posts/default/4987321402414205293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dropoff.blogspot.com/2011/03/day-four.html' title='March 3rd'/><author><name>Scrambled</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18388717665427144678</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-7013964456934199371.post-4943037531934516923</id><published>2011-03-02T20:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-10T19:15:32.457-08:00</updated><title type='text'>March 2nd</title><content type='html'>Today got harder. I'm starting to miss him more. The excitement's still there, just emptiness follows. I feel his beard scratch my skin like prickly sandpaper. His sweatshirt has&amp;nbsp;his faint smell lingering on it and I can feel his arms wrap around me. I appreciate our time together more. All the little silly things. If this is starting to get hard I wonder what the schooling can bring...I guess you never really do know what you have until it's gone..Even if it's not impermanent.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7013964456934199371-4943037531934516923?l=dropoff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dropoff.blogspot.com/feeds/4943037531934516923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dropoff.blogspot.com/2011/03/day-three.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7013964456934199371/posts/default/4943037531934516923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7013964456934199371/posts/default/4943037531934516923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dropoff.blogspot.com/2011/03/day-three.html' title='March 2nd'/><author><name>Scrambled</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18388717665427144678</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-7013964456934199371.post-2067532752084307818</id><published>2011-03-01T19:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-10T19:15:55.588-08:00</updated><title type='text'>March 1st</title><content type='html'>Today was easier. Not as emotional as yesterday. I am more excited now than upset about the departure. I don't think it has hit me completely yet. Hopefully by the time it does I'll be making my trip to&amp;nbsp;see him. I am dedicated to stay faithful and don't think that it will ever be difficult doing so. I keep wondering what he is doing. The time is delayed by an hour there. I wonder what he thinks about when he gets lonely, or when he's waiting,nervous,or thinking.&amp;nbsp;He knows that he has a lot of people thinking about him. I'm a little worried that he will not fit in with the "younger crowd" being older but I don't know. I'm sure he will be just fine. He sounded excited on the phone, which made me happy. I can tell in his voice that he misses being home though. It's a different atmosphere. Hopefully one that will make him very happy with his choice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7013964456934199371-2067532752084307818?l=dropoff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dropoff.blogspot.com/feeds/2067532752084307818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dropoff.blogspot.com/2011/03/day-one.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7013964456934199371/posts/default/2067532752084307818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7013964456934199371/posts/default/2067532752084307818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dropoff.blogspot.com/2011/03/day-one.html' title='March 1st'/><author><name>Scrambled</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18388717665427144678</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-7013964456934199371.post-3580814545397774055</id><published>2011-02-28T21:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-03-03T21:40:59.330-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Drop Off</title><content type='html'>One of the hardest moments I've ever experienced. Spending virtually every day with someone for a year, then leaving them for four. I'm extremely proud of him. It takes a lot. I'm already counting the days down until I can see him again. My last pictured memory is driving away while him and Sam turned and waved. I guess I'm just mostly scared. I've never cared for someone so much in my life before. I think that's part of what's scaring me. Caring so much for someone can be a dangerous thing.&amp;nbsp;I know the days will get harder from here. For the both of us. I have a lot of faith for our futures.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7013964456934199371-3580814545397774055?l=dropoff.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dropoff.blogspot.com/feeds/3580814545397774055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dropoff.blogspot.com/2011/02/drop-off.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7013964456934199371/posts/default/3580814545397774055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7013964456934199371/posts/default/3580814545397774055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dropoff.blogspot.com/2011/02/drop-off.html' title='Drop Off'/><author><name>Scrambled</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18388717665427144678</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>
