<?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-2644611870002765418</id><updated>2012-02-17T04:26:27.839+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Doran   *~* caught in a moment *~*</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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>30</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2644611870002765418.post-6234504292121972146</id><published>2009-11-21T02:02:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2010-12-12T20:04:42.766+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"Mom, where is granny," he asked her. &lt;br /&gt;"She's asleep," his 9 year old brother answered.. &lt;br /&gt;He went into her old bedroom and came back. &lt;br /&gt;"She's not there." &lt;br /&gt;"A. are you kidding me?" his mom answered this time.. &lt;br /&gt;"Granny is dead, you know that.."&lt;br /&gt;"OOh! I'm sorry," he said surprised, "I completely forgot." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How much I would give to be my cousin's 7-year old son right now.&lt;br /&gt;To continue with your life like nothing ever happend. &lt;br /&gt;How fantastic would that be? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again a new chapter in my life has started. &lt;br /&gt;I'm at home again. Not knowing what I want to do in life.. &lt;br /&gt;Everywhere I look people are making choices in their life. &lt;br /&gt;Wheater it's going a year abroad, going back to school or starting at a new job. &lt;br /&gt;These people are moving forward. &lt;br /&gt;Time is ticking away and my life passes by. &lt;br /&gt;I'm living without reason. &lt;br /&gt;Where are all my dreams?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-6234504292121972146?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/6234504292121972146/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=6234504292121972146' title='0 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/6234504292121972146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/6234504292121972146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2009/11/mom-where-is-granny-he-asked-her.html' title=''/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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-2644611870002765418.post-7964373317414760063</id><published>2009-08-14T21:33:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2010-12-12T20:01:28.698+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Addict</title><content type='html'>My best friend told me about these fantastic books she was reading. &lt;br /&gt;A story about a regular girl and a vampire who fall in love. &lt;br /&gt;"So lame," I thought. &lt;br /&gt;"Why on earth would people read a love story about a vampire?"&lt;br /&gt;She convinced me to watch the movie of the first book with her. &lt;br /&gt;And then it happend. &lt;br /&gt;I was intruiged. &lt;br /&gt;This wasn't some lame 'killing-people-and-drinking-their-blood'-story.&lt;br /&gt;This was something 'real'. &lt;br /&gt;Something that I, in a weird way, could find myself in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started reading the books. In two weeks I read the first three books. &lt;br /&gt;Today I bought the fourth, and last one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The main caracter, Bella -the ordinary girl- reminds me of myself sometimes. &lt;br /&gt;She always compares herself to other people, thinking she isn't pretty, smart or funny. &lt;br /&gt;But more so, she thinks her 'boyfriend' isn't good enough for her. &lt;br /&gt;When he left her (because he thought she would be better of without him), she so quickly believed him when he was telling her he didn't love her anymore. (This was a lie of course.) &lt;br /&gt;That right there is me. &lt;br /&gt;I did the same, damn thing. Thinking I wasn't good enough. &lt;br /&gt;And in the end I'd proven myself that I was right. But where did that bring me? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've become this Christina-like person. &lt;br /&gt;Someone who is afraid to show her true feelings. &lt;br /&gt;No, not afraid, she just doesn't want to. &lt;br /&gt;Because sharing your feelings equals being vonurable. &lt;br /&gt;And that's not me anymore. Not in public that is. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This might sound stupid, but reading this book, reading a bout this magic, weird but pure lovestory makes me cry sometimes. I'm letting it get to me. &lt;br /&gt;I'm losing my protective shield.. my comfort blanket, my hiding wall. &lt;br /&gt;Even more stupid, I'm scared to read the last book. I know a few things that are going to happen. Things I've once wanted. Things I don't believe in anymore. &lt;br /&gt;I've gone so far in this black hole.. I'm scared to come out of it.. I'm talking about a book like it's my own life. Like that is something I want too. &lt;br /&gt;What if everything comes back again? What if I let my heart be foolish again? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a good thing, this all is fiction.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-7964373317414760063?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/7964373317414760063/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=7964373317414760063' title='0 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/7964373317414760063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/7964373317414760063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2009/08/addict.html' title='Addict'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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-2644611870002765418.post-5316726871812886265</id><published>2009-07-28T22:01:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T21:27:35.186+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Supersize</title><content type='html'>Again I've proven myself I'm a complete failure! &lt;br /&gt;I drawned myself in this selfpitty.. and walked my walk of shame.. &lt;br /&gt;If that wasn't bad enough I did the things that make me feel worse.. &lt;br /&gt;and above that I saw you today! &lt;br /&gt;Perfect-, skinny-, young-, snobish- you.&lt;br /&gt;Everything I'm not and more.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was clear that you didn't knew who I was and that you weren't very friendly.. &lt;br /&gt;Or you're a good pretender.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, after seeing you my selfpitty has grown.. &lt;br /&gt;I'm so angry at myself right now! &lt;br /&gt;Why do you have the power to make me feel like this? &lt;br /&gt;I don't even know you at all. And it's shallow of me to say this but I'm never gonna like you. You will always be the one I envy. &lt;br /&gt;You've got what I want but not what I need.. &lt;br /&gt;After all this time everything still hurts. How could I be so foolish. &lt;br /&gt;What have I become? I'm apathic most of the time, scared, alone, not able to trust anything or anyone.. and above that.. I'm only interesting when having a few drinks. &lt;br /&gt;Conclusion? I don't know.. just need to be fixed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One advise to you: supersize the deal baby!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-5316726871812886265?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/5316726871812886265/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=5316726871812886265' title='0 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/5316726871812886265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/5316726871812886265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2009/07/supersize.html' title='Supersize'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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-2644611870002765418.post-8867564123545928235</id><published>2009-06-21T22:02:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T21:52:20.990+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear you</title><content type='html'>The letter I'll probably never send.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear you, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this is the hardest letter I've ever written so far. &lt;br /&gt;I'm not really sure how to say what I want you to know.. &lt;br /&gt;So here I go.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This thing we shared, was magical.. I remember being suprised that you were in love with me. I never thought someone like you would fall for a girl like me. But you did.&lt;br /&gt;The first year we shared was great. We were so in love, we enjoyed every moment. I sometimes had my doubts, but you'd always find a way to make me feel better. But it turned out those moments always came back. There was always something making me feel sad. It got so bad that neither one of us knew what to do. Until that one evening. You were the one strong enough to make the decision. My heart broke. &lt;br /&gt;I thought I knew what the real reason of our break-up was. Turns out it almost took me a year to find out....the real reason was me. I wasn't whole on my own. All I did was push you away. It hurts me so bad to know that now. It hurted me even more when I realised nothing has changed. Knowing that, it really breaks my heart seeing you. It's like reading your own diary, telling you, you're not happy.   &lt;br /&gt;I just need time for myself. Time to figure out what I want. Time to make me whole. But... I can't do that with you being so frequent in my life. I mean, we tried being friends. Maybe we will, someday. But for now I need the distance. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until I'm ready, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;goodbye love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-8867564123545928235?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/8867564123545928235/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=8867564123545928235' title='0 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/8867564123545928235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/8867564123545928235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2009/06/dear-you.html' title='Dear you'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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-2644611870002765418.post-8084055519509927748</id><published>2009-04-10T21:29:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T22:41:39.895+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Start over</title><content type='html'>After a break-up everybody says to you: "You will be Okay. There are plenty of fish in the sea. He didn't deserve you. You are better of without him." And I could go on for a while. There is nothing wrong with some peptalk. I tell it too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now a days I'm wondering: &lt;br /&gt;Am I better of without him? &lt;br /&gt;How many fish are there in the sea? &lt;br /&gt;Where is that sea?&lt;br /&gt;Didn't he deserve me? &lt;br /&gt;Am I really okay? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I am not.. &lt;br /&gt;I miss something but I don't know what. &lt;br /&gt;I don't have the energy to look for a new fish. &lt;br /&gt;I don't even know where to start. &lt;br /&gt;How do you start over? &lt;br /&gt;Do I have to? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A guy in a movie once said: "Every woman has the exact love-life she wants".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So maybe I don't want one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-8084055519509927748?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/8084055519509927748/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=8084055519509927748' title='0 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/8084055519509927748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/8084055519509927748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2009/04/start-over.html' title='Start over'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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-2644611870002765418.post-372136838655211064</id><published>2009-03-05T22:19:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2009-03-07T01:07:47.824+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Game over</title><content type='html'>Two months ago I confessed playing a dirty game. &lt;br /&gt;A dirty game I thougth, gave me closure. &lt;br /&gt;It turned out, I just made me realise I'm still not over. &lt;br /&gt;The weird part is, the game didn't make it worse. &lt;br /&gt;I played the game, I liked it, but I got bored.  &lt;br /&gt;Perhaps I need a new toy to play with? &lt;br /&gt;Perhaps I need a new game? &lt;br /&gt;But what I really need is one last role of the dice that will get me to the finishline, pack up the gameboard, close the box and put it away as far as possible. &lt;br /&gt;Two days ago the dice roled. The game is really over. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But okay, all gametalk aside. What pulled the trigger? &lt;br /&gt;The fact that I'm still living in the between? &lt;br /&gt;Or the fact that he's really moved one? &lt;br /&gt;Or maybe the fact that after almost a year, he still makes me cry. &lt;br /&gt;I don't know when or how I will be moving on. &lt;br /&gt;The only thing I do know is I'm done, over and out, GAME OVER! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But where do I put the box?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-372136838655211064?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/372136838655211064/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=372136838655211064' title='0 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/372136838655211064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/372136838655211064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2009/03/game-over.html' title='Game over'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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-2644611870002765418.post-1644670519729759411</id><published>2009-01-04T22:04:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-01-04T22:39:34.058+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Samantha who?</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;"Don't let the fear of striking out, keep you from playing the game!"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is like a game we're all desperate to play. &lt;br /&gt;We all create our own rules. &lt;br /&gt;We win, we loose, we get lost and we are found. &lt;br /&gt;We try to play the game right, but sometimes we slip and cheat. &lt;br /&gt;We play nice and sometimes dirty.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I played dirty.. turns out this is what I needed to play right again.&lt;br /&gt;Closure is something we all need when a game of love ends. &lt;br /&gt;I found closure by playing a ‘dirty’ game. &lt;br /&gt;A dirty game I thought would make it worse. But I'm fine..  &lt;br /&gt;I'm a little bitch even. I played like a boy. And I liked it! &lt;br /&gt;Just hope it doesn't haunt me and bite me in the ass! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe this is what I needed  to draw the line, to turn the page and start over. &lt;br /&gt;It feels like I can move on, and write a new chapter. &lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure I'm all ready the old me again, but I'm getting closer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just hope I don't end up playing dirty everytime.. &lt;br /&gt;Samantha who? &lt;br /&gt;Samantha me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-1644670519729759411?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/1644670519729759411/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=1644670519729759411' title='0 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/1644670519729759411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/1644670519729759411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2009/01/samantha-who.html' title='Samantha who?'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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-2644611870002765418.post-394945819404989099</id><published>2008-12-29T23:42:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T00:13:08.189+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Obsessive little girl</title><content type='html'>Seven months ago my heart got broken, again.. &lt;br /&gt;A lot has happend in that time. &lt;br /&gt;I had some experiences, tried some thing out, had fun with friends, went back to school, gave up, moved back home, got myself in a big mess, got some jobs,... in the meanwhile just trying to figure out how I feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything and everybody around me is changing. It feels like I'm standing still.&lt;br /&gt;Two years ago I made a pact with myself that I had ten years to accomplish the things I want before I'm thirty. Silly I know.. But now, almost 3 years later I find that I've only accomplished one thing. And I know I'm not the only one feeling this way, I just feel alone these days. Everybody is making something of himself and I'm stuck figuring out what I want.. And the truth is, the only thing I want is something I don't believe in anymore.. I make myself believe I do, I obsess even, I listen to my friends and their stories and pretend it's all so great! Great for them it is. I'm happy for them. But for me, I'm wondering if I'll ever be on that road again.. These past seven months have been the worst. I learned that sometimes the knife cuts deeper than it seems. I got cut and I'm still healing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it turns out not believing turns into obsessing about something you're not even sure about in the first place. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll try to find my way, &lt;br /&gt;in the meanwhile I'm in love with F5.&lt;br /&gt;Time to refresh again!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-394945819404989099?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/394945819404989099/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=394945819404989099' title='0 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/394945819404989099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/394945819404989099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2008/12/obsessive-little-girl.html' title='Obsessive little girl'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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-2644611870002765418.post-1079561122496819331</id><published>2008-12-17T19:26:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-12-17T19:26:42.520+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Hate that I love you so..</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/GKrTYwniDlU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/GKrTYwniDlU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-1079561122496819331?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/1079561122496819331/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=1079561122496819331' title='0 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/1079561122496819331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/1079561122496819331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2008/12/hate-that-i-love-you-so.html' title='Hate that I love you so..'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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-2644611870002765418.post-949180270483811884</id><published>2008-11-25T23:31:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-27T20:37:17.954+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Hurt</title><content type='html'>Hurt is different in every language, &lt;br /&gt;in every culture, &lt;br /&gt;in every age, &lt;br /&gt;for every individual. &lt;br /&gt;But the question we all ask us is:&lt;br /&gt;"when does is stop hurting and become bearable?"&lt;br /&gt;If it hurts since you can't remember and it keeps coming back, will it ever go away?&lt;br /&gt;How much longer will I be able to take this? &lt;br /&gt;There is nothing I can do, just sit and watch from a distance. &lt;br /&gt;Because getting to close will get me into deep. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you know the feeling when you have a wound and it's healing and then you scratch it open again? The wound needs more time to heal and it sometimes leaves a scar. &lt;br /&gt;At the moment it feels like if all the scars I collected over the years are cut open.&lt;br /&gt;Cut open and bleeding, and I can't stop it..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-949180270483811884?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/949180270483811884/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=949180270483811884' title='0 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/949180270483811884'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/949180270483811884'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2008/11/hurt.html' title='Hurt'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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-2644611870002765418.post-2934649832824840029</id><published>2008-11-10T00:00:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T00:02:39.439+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Tattoo</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1X-JNNEBcTM&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1X-JNNEBcTM&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I will never regret you&lt;br /&gt;Still the memory of you&lt;br /&gt;Marks everything I do"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-2934649832824840029?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/2934649832824840029/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=2934649832824840029' title='0 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/2934649832824840029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/2934649832824840029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2008/11/tattoo.html' title='Tattoo'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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-2644611870002765418.post-5609467096398654114</id><published>2008-11-09T23:48:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-09T23:48:46.971+01:00</updated><title type='text'>No air</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/_pL6fK1iNIQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/_pL6fK1iNIQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-5609467096398654114?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/5609467096398654114/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=5609467096398654114' title='0 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/5609467096398654114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/5609467096398654114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2008/11/no-air.html' title='No air'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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-2644611870002765418.post-3589497163524296540</id><published>2008-11-09T23:25:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-11-09T23:28:57.896+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Any other world</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/4WqIiJnNcTY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/4WqIiJnNcTY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I tried to live alone&lt;br /&gt;But lonely is so lonely you know&lt;br /&gt;So human as I am, I had to give up my defences&lt;br /&gt;So I smiled and tried to mean it&lt;br /&gt;To let myself let go"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-3589497163524296540?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/3589497163524296540/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=3589497163524296540' title='0 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/3589497163524296540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/3589497163524296540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2008/11/any-other-world.html' title='Any other world'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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-2644611870002765418.post-1551737790663766183</id><published>2008-10-09T21:08:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-10-09T21:15:09.725+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Soul meets body</title><content type='html'>I want to live where soul meets body ,&lt;br /&gt;And let the sun wrap its arms around me, &lt;br /&gt;And bathe my skin in water cool and cleansing, &lt;br /&gt;And feel, feel what it's like to be new. &lt;br /&gt;Cause in my head there's a Greyhound station, &lt;br /&gt;Where I send my thoughts to far off destinations; &lt;br /&gt;So they may have a chance of finding a place, &lt;br /&gt;Where they're far more suited than here. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(DCfC - Soul meets body)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-1551737790663766183?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/1551737790663766183/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=1551737790663766183' title='0 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/1551737790663766183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/1551737790663766183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2008/10/soul-meets-body.html' title='Soul meets body'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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-2644611870002765418.post-367105128030607905</id><published>2008-09-17T22:54:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T22:58:18.510+01:00</updated><title type='text'>I wish</title><content type='html'>I wish I could surrender my soul;&lt;br /&gt;Shed the clothes that become my skin;&lt;br /&gt;See a liar that burns within my needing.&lt;br /&gt;How I wish I'd chosen darkness from cold.&lt;br /&gt;How I wish I'd screamed out loud,&lt;br /&gt;Instead I've found no meaning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess it's time I run far, far away; find comfort in pain,&lt;br /&gt;All pleasure's the same: it just keeps me from trouble.&lt;br /&gt;Hides my true shape, like Dorian Gray.&lt;br /&gt;I've heard what they say, but I'm not here for trouble.&lt;br /&gt;It's more than just words: it's just tears and rain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could walk through the doors of my mind;&lt;br /&gt;Hold memory close at hand,&lt;br /&gt;Help me understand the years.&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could choose between Heaven and Hell.&lt;br /&gt;I wish I would save my soul.&lt;br /&gt;I'm so cold from fear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess it's time I run far, far away; find comfort in pain,&lt;br /&gt;All pleasure's the same: it just keeps me from trouble.&lt;br /&gt;Hides my true shape, like Dorian Gray.&lt;br /&gt;I've heard what they say, but I'm not here for trouble.&lt;br /&gt;Far, far away; find comfort in pain.&lt;br /&gt;All pleasure's the same: it just keeps me from trouble.&lt;br /&gt;It's more than just words: it's just tears and rain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tears and rain&lt;br /&gt;Far, Far away;find comfort in pain&lt;br /&gt;All pleasures the same: it just keeps me from trouble&lt;br /&gt;Its more than just words; its just tears and rain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J.B.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-367105128030607905?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/367105128030607905/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=367105128030607905' title='0 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/367105128030607905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/367105128030607905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-wish.html' title='I wish'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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-2644611870002765418.post-8047712195342427710</id><published>2008-09-06T21:46:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-09-06T21:50:11.776+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Human heart</title><content type='html'>"The human heart has hidden treasures&lt;br /&gt;In secret kept, in silence sealed. &lt;br /&gt;The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures &lt;br /&gt;Whose charms were broken if revealed."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-8047712195342427710?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/8047712195342427710/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=8047712195342427710' title='0 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/8047712195342427710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/8047712195342427710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2008/09/human-heart.html' title='Human heart'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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-2644611870002765418.post-5664222167700219613</id><published>2008-09-05T19:59:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T20:06:27.496+01:00</updated><title type='text'>not over</title><content type='html'>I didn't know, you didn't hint, you didn't try to deceive me&lt;br /&gt;You just leave me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You didn't call, you never phoned, you didn't say you were leaving.&lt;br /&gt;You were busy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You used to say it'd never end, you used to cry I can't leave you&lt;br /&gt;I believed you&lt;br /&gt;But I'm so sure this isn't you, but I don't know how to reach you&lt;br /&gt;And I need to&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-5664222167700219613?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/5664222167700219613/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=5664222167700219613' title='0 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/5664222167700219613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/5664222167700219613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2008/09/not-over.html' title='not over'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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-2644611870002765418.post-5035903827131857028</id><published>2008-08-21T15:47:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-10-23T17:24:02.277+01:00</updated><title type='text'>miss you</title><content type='html'>One year ago I didn't have a clue what was happening to you. &lt;br /&gt;I was there, you were here, surrounded by people who love you, more than they could possibly say. But I wasn't here. I didn't knew it was time. I just saw you a few days earlier. You seemed fine. I left thinking I would see you again. I was wrong.&lt;br /&gt;One year ago today, at night I couldn't sleep. I felt sick. And in the morning that feeling remained. It's like I knew.&lt;br /&gt;Although you're the third one to leave, it hurts me even more. This time I was older and more involved. With them I was too young to really understand what it meant to never see them again. I think of them too, but it doesnt hurt anymore. With you it feels like something of me has left as well. &lt;br /&gt;I hope you're safe. &lt;br /&gt;I hope you're with them.&lt;br /&gt;I hope. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Untill we meet again, &lt;br /&gt;I'll miss you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-5035903827131857028?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/5035903827131857028/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=5035903827131857028' title='0 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/5035903827131857028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/5035903827131857028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2008/08/miss-you.html' title='miss you'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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-2644611870002765418.post-2123128425150014285</id><published>2008-08-19T22:48:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-08-21T16:10:47.384+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Scared</title><content type='html'>Scared is how I feel. Sad is what I am. Mean and sarcastic is how I act.&lt;br /&gt;It hasn't been the first time that my feelings and my actions are miles apart, eventually hurting the people I love the most and discovering that the thing I'm so afraid of is happening because of my behavour. &lt;br /&gt;Everything is changing so fast, too fast! And I can't deal with it. My legs are running to keep up, but in the end I trip and fall. I crash. I think and wonder and stand still, everything is passing by and I don't know what to do. &lt;br /&gt;I'm so scared to loose everything I had. I already lost too much. My life is changing. A month ago I sad goodbye to something that was a part of me for 6 years. Something I chared for 4 years with my best. We've been trough a lot in those 4 years. And now I'm leaving and she's not. And then there's also this City. A city that will seperate me and my friends with a 2 and half hour trainride during the week. And although everyone is saying that changes are good. That it will be okay, that I'm going to be fine and that nothing will change between me and them. I can't help but wonder if I am strong enough. If the bound we have is strong enough to survive these changes. Are we still going to laugh at the same things? Are we still going to say what the other is thinking? Are we still going to do impulsive things? Are we still going to be there for each other, when we need each other the most? This all may seem like I'm giving up, but I'm not! I'm just wondering what will happen!? Only time can tell. (Hate that stupid cliché). In the meanwhile I'm hoping to find a way to deal with all this, so that everything isn't already lost before it all begins. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to say to 'my people' (they know who they are): that I love you so much. I may not show it or say it. But I really do. I will try to be stronger so I won't hurt you again. Just don't forget that if there is one thing that I &lt;strong&gt;still&lt;/strong&gt; believe in it's 'us'. I'm not ready to let go. I'm just scared. If only someone would understand.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-2123128425150014285?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/2123128425150014285/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=2123128425150014285' title='1 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/2123128425150014285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/2123128425150014285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2008/08/scared.html' title='Scared'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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-2644611870002765418.post-2430423358512438104</id><published>2008-07-29T20:33:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-10-23T17:26:50.632+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Why do we believe?</title><content type='html'>Some people believe in family, others believe in friends, in some kind of god.. &lt;br /&gt;And then their are those who believe in love.. &lt;br /&gt;I was one of them, or am one of them, not really sure about that yet. &lt;br /&gt;I didn't have the best example for relationships, I've seen my share of bad break-up's.. &lt;br /&gt;Spite of that, I believed. I believed everyone, including me, would find their love, grow old together, have pretty children and make an effort everyday to make it work. (Silly huh?) Now the only thing I see is couples fighting, couples rushing into living together or couples breaking-up after years of being their for each other. &lt;br /&gt;How come we can go from love to hate in one day? &lt;br /&gt;Realising this, makes me wonder why we still believe. Why are we so foolish? Why am I? &lt;br /&gt;I lost my faith somewhere along the way. I even can't be honest about my feelings to my friends. The girl who once loved to hug and kiss her friends has died I guess.. &lt;br /&gt;I've been deceived, heartbroken and messed up. Maybe the last time was just too much? &lt;br /&gt;He left and took a part of my believe with him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;27 days ago I was dreaming of my prince.. &lt;br /&gt;Today I'm sitting here, wondering if believing is still worth it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-2430423358512438104?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/2430423358512438104/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=2430423358512438104' title='0 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/2430423358512438104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/2430423358512438104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2008/07/why-do-we-believe.html' title='Why do we believe?'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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-2644611870002765418.post-1943759415479366107</id><published>2008-07-08T21:08:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T21:50:25.555+01:00</updated><title type='text'>ex-boyfriend friend</title><content type='html'>Why is it that men, after dumping you always say they want to stay friends? &lt;br /&gt;It is complete bullshit I tell you! &lt;br /&gt;They want to stay in touch and all the other crap they say.&lt;br /&gt;But what they are really saying is something they think you want to hear.&lt;br /&gt;Well boys next time just dump the girl and go away!&lt;br /&gt;Why do you always leave us hanging in those fake promises? &lt;br /&gt;Promises we smart girls know you can't keep.&lt;br /&gt;It's the same with the phrase: "it's not you!" Meaning it is you!&lt;br /&gt;Wake up boys, deal with the drama and be honest! &lt;br /&gt;Unless you like a kick in the vital parts after a few weeks!!&lt;br /&gt;And to that one man in particular: "if you want to be my friend, learn to accept te fact that for once I'm actually better than you in something!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boys don't want no drama.&lt;br /&gt;We don't want no ex-boyfriend as a friend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-1943759415479366107?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/1943759415479366107/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=1943759415479366107' title='0 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/1943759415479366107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/1943759415479366107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2008/07/ex-boyfriend-friend.html' title='ex-boyfriend friend'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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-2644611870002765418.post-1128906120082359930</id><published>2008-07-02T19:05:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-12-30T00:56:02.695+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Every night</title><content type='html'>You have to be 22 years old to find out you're just a little child dreaming of her prince with his big white horse and a beautiful castle.. &lt;br /&gt;I thought I had found my prince, turns out he was nothing more than a regular boy who was just passing by, on my way.&lt;br /&gt;He wasn't my prince, I know that now, but why is it silently killing me? &lt;br /&gt;And if that isn't enough, my foolish mind pushed me into the arms of another. &lt;br /&gt;Hoping this could eventualy be something. (not really knowing what 'something' is.)Only to find out my mind had deceived me. I played the game, thought I was tough. It's clear now that I'm not.I'm trying to convince myself I'm not waiting for the one, that my day will come and that I'm happy for now.. &lt;br /&gt;But inside I know that's not true.. &lt;br /&gt;Inside I'm that little girl, dreaming of her prince.&lt;br /&gt;Every night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-1128906120082359930?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/1128906120082359930/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=1128906120082359930' title='0 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/1128906120082359930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/1128906120082359930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2008/07/every-night.html' title='Every night'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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-2644611870002765418.post-1986126919109785666</id><published>2007-02-15T18:23:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-02-15T18:46:41.669+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Omhels me dan</title><content type='html'>Quero ir-me embora,&lt;br /&gt;o meu coracao deixar.&lt;br /&gt;Por o seu veneno fora,&lt;br /&gt;e de ti me curar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;En quero perder-te,&lt;br /&gt;para de novo te ganhar.&lt;br /&gt;E no labirinto das penas,&lt;br /&gt;aprender a te amar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abrace-me, abrace-me e beija-me, deseja-me&lt;br /&gt;Aperte-me berm forte contra ti.&lt;br /&gt;Abrace-me, abrace-me e beija-me, deseja-me&lt;br /&gt;E deixa-me um pouco morrer por ti&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spijt heb ik niet meer, van wat ik je ooit zei.&lt;br /&gt;Van wat ik alsmaar voel&lt;br /&gt;en wat jij niet voelt voor mij.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tijd neemt echt geen keer,&lt;br /&gt;de dingen gaan voorbij.&lt;br /&gt;Maar de zaken van het hart,&lt;br /&gt;maken mij steeds minder vrij.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spreek niet van vergeten,&lt;br /&gt;spreek niet over tijd.&lt;br /&gt;Spreek niet over later,&lt;br /&gt;want later ben ik kwijt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Omhels me dan,&lt;br /&gt;omhels me dan,&lt;br /&gt;je weet dat ik niet zonder kan.&lt;br /&gt;Mijn hart is veel te groot,&lt;br /&gt;dus druk me nu maar zachtjes dood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Omhels me dan,&lt;br /&gt;omhels me dan,&lt;br /&gt;je weet dat ik niet zonder kan.&lt;br /&gt;Maar als ik dan toch zonder moet,&lt;br /&gt;verlos me dan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Diz-mo, quero ouvir,&lt;br /&gt;o que nao te ouco mais dizer.&lt;br /&gt;Quero fazer-te sentir,&lt;br /&gt;que por ti espero.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Draaiend om je heen,&lt;br /&gt;ontdek ik bij mezelf.&lt;br /&gt;Dat ik maar de helft ben,&lt;br /&gt;een halve man alleen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quero fazer-te sofrer, n&lt;br /&gt;ao por eu te querer mal&lt;br /&gt;Mas por eu nao te poder dizer.&lt;br /&gt;O quanto te quero.&lt;br /&gt;Quero ver-te cair, para te poder levantar&lt;br /&gt;Da indiferenca te fazer sair, escutar-te chorar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Omhels me dan,&lt;br /&gt;omhels me dan,&lt;br /&gt;je weet dat ik niet zonder kan&lt;br /&gt;Maar als ik dan toch zonder moet,&lt;br /&gt;verlos me dan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Omhels me dan,&lt;br /&gt;omhels me dan,&lt;br /&gt;je weet dat ik niet zonder kan&lt;br /&gt;Mijn hart is veel te groot,&lt;br /&gt;dus druk me nu maar zachtjes dood.&lt;br /&gt;Omhels me dan, omhels me dan,&lt;br /&gt;je weet dat ik niet zonder kan.&lt;br /&gt;Maar als ik dan toch zonder moet,&lt;br /&gt;verlos me dan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Omhels me dan,&lt;br /&gt;omhels me dan,&lt;br /&gt;je weet dat ik niet zonder kan&lt;br /&gt;Mijn hart is veel te groot,&lt;br /&gt;dus druk me nu maar zachtjes dood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abrace-me, abrace-me e beija-me, deseja-me&lt;br /&gt;Aperte-me berm forte contra ti.&lt;br /&gt;Abrace-me, abrace-me e beija-me, deseja-me&lt;br /&gt;E deixa-me um pouco morrer por ti&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spijt heb ik niet meer,&lt;br /&gt;van wat ik je ooit zei&lt;br /&gt;Van wat ik alsmaar voel&lt;br /&gt;en wat jij niet voelt voor mij.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Omhels me dan&lt;br /&gt;Abrace-me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De tekst spreekt wel voor zich..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-1986126919109785666?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/1986126919109785666/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=1986126919109785666' title='1 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/1986126919109785666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/1986126919109785666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2007/02/omhels-me-dan.html' title='Omhels me dan'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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-2644611870002765418.post-7027939270993986073</id><published>2007-01-27T14:57:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-01-27T15:01:38.783+01:00</updated><title type='text'>... Zag jij misschien</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;... zag jij mischien dat ik naar jou, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;dat ik je zag en dat ik zag hoe jij&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;naar mij te kijken zoals ik naar jou &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;en dat ik hoe dat heet zo steels, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;zo en passant en ook zo zijdelings - &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;dat ik je net zo lang bekeek tot ik &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;naar je staarde en dat ik staren bleef. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Ik zag je toen en ik wist in te zien &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;dat in mijn leven zoveel is gezien &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;zonder dat ik het ooit zag: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;dat kijken zoveel liefs vermag&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;- Joost Zwagerman - &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-7027939270993986073?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/7027939270993986073/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=7027939270993986073' title='1 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/7027939270993986073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/7027939270993986073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2007/01/zag-jij-misschien.html' title='... Zag jij misschien'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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-2644611870002765418.post-3524445709696022776</id><published>2007-01-25T21:45:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-01-25T22:10:25.722+01:00</updated><title type='text'>mind or heart?</title><content type='html'>Later that night I got to thinking about the x-factor. In mathmatics, we learn that x stands for the unknown, a+b=x, but what's really unknown is what plus what equals friendship with an x. Is this an unsolvable equation? Or is it possible to transform a once passionate love into something that fits nice and easily onto the friendship shelf? I couldnt help but wonder... can you be friends with an x?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someting I was thinking about a year ago.. and my answer was NO!&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't believe that someone who has hurt you so bad could become your friend...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today my opinion has changed..&lt;br /&gt;I'm not completly convinced.. but I see the possibility..&lt;br /&gt;Maybe because this situation is different..&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it is for the best after all.. and I just couldn't see..&lt;br /&gt;I'm not convinced about that yet... but I'm getting there..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just wondering how it feels to be certain about what you feel...&lt;br /&gt;Does anybody really know how that feels like?&lt;br /&gt;Can anybody really be certain?&lt;br /&gt;Or will doubt always excist?&lt;br /&gt;Will my mind fail under the pressure of doubt&lt;br /&gt;and will doubt take over my heart..?&lt;br /&gt;Will my heart win, and take all the choices..?&lt;br /&gt;Or will my heart learn to co-operated with my mind and be certain, without doubt?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stay tuned, as I learn..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-3524445709696022776?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/3524445709696022776/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=3524445709696022776' title='0 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/3524445709696022776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/3524445709696022776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2007/01/mind-or-heart.html' title='mind or heart?'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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-2644611870002765418.post-5771425182031022561</id><published>2007-01-25T17:43:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-01-25T17:52:45.055+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Gedichtendag</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Herman De Coninck, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;O ik weet het niet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;O, ik weet het niet,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;maar besta, wees mooi, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;zeg: kijk, een vogel &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;en leer me de vogel zien&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;zeg: het leven is een brood&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;om in te bijten en de appels zien rood&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;van plezier, en nog, en nog, zeg iets,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;leer me huilen, en als ik huil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;leer me zeggen: het is niets.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;Gino Van Looy, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;Geloofsbelijdenis&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sommigen geloven&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;in god&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;anderen in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;niets&lt;br /&gt;ik vind niets&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;wat weinig&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;en god teveel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;voor een mens&lt;br /&gt;mijn geloofbelijd ik als&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;ze naakt op&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;me zit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;haar benen om&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;me heen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;zachtjes kreunend&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;oh mijn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;god&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"&gt;En mijn favoriet van vandaag: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Ingmar Heytze, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Voor de liefste onbekende &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Wat ben ik blij dat ik je nog niet ken.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Ik dank de sterren en de maan&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;dat iedereen die komt en gaat&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;de diepste sporen achterlaat, behalve jij,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;dat jij mijn deuren, dicht of open,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;steeds voorbijgelopen bent.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Het is maar goed dat je me niet herkent.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Kussen onder straatlantaarns&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;en samen dwalen door de regen,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;wéér veliefd zijn, wéér verliezen,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;bijna sterven van verdriet -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;dat hoeft nu allemaal nog niet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Ik ben nog niet aan ons gehecht.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Ik kijk bepaald niet naar je uit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Neem de tijd, als je dat wilt,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;Wacht een maand, een jaar,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;de eeuwigheid en één seconde meer -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;"&gt;maar kom, voor ik mijn ogen sluit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-5771425182031022561?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/5771425182031022561/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=5771425182031022561' title='0 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/5771425182031022561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/5771425182031022561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2007/01/gedichtendag.html' title='Gedichtendag'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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-2644611870002765418.post-2246260062942279773</id><published>2007-01-19T18:28:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-01-19T18:31:16.478+01:00</updated><title type='text'>...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Turning circles, time again&lt;br /&gt;it cuts like a knife oh yea&lt;br /&gt;If you love me got to know for sure&lt;br /&gt;Cos it takes something more this time&lt;br /&gt;than sweet sweet lies&lt;br /&gt;before i open up my arms and fall&lt;br /&gt;losing all control of every dream inside my soul&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-2246260062942279773?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/2246260062942279773/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=2246260062942279773' title='0 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/2246260062942279773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/2246260062942279773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2007/01/blog-post.html' title='...'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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-2644611870002765418.post-7780572801342077059</id><published>2007-01-19T18:15:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-01-19T18:19:44.369+01:00</updated><title type='text'>I will follow</title><content type='html'>If you are out on the road&lt;br /&gt;feeling lonely and so cold ..&lt;br /&gt;All you have to do is call my name&lt;br /&gt;and I'll be there, on the next train...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where you leap, I will follow&lt;br /&gt;anywhere, that you tell me to&lt;br /&gt;If you need, you need me to be with you...&lt;br /&gt;I will follow...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where you leap, I will follow&lt;br /&gt;anywhere that you tell me to&lt;br /&gt;If you need, you need me to be with you&lt;br /&gt;I will follow, where you leap...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-7780572801342077059?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/7780572801342077059/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=7780572801342077059' title='1 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/7780572801342077059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/7780572801342077059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2007/01/i-will-follow.html' title='I will follow'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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-2644611870002765418.post-5120743411634853193</id><published>2007-01-18T17:32:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-01-18T17:34:15.826+01:00</updated><title type='text'>time..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;I looked at your face &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;I saw that we had forgotten to take the time &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;But how much time is really necessary..&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-5120743411634853193?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/5120743411634853193/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=5120743411634853193' title='0 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/5120743411634853193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/5120743411634853193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2007/01/time.html' title='time..'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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-2644611870002765418.post-2077528099445158847</id><published>2007-01-17T20:46:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-01-17T20:49:25.679+01:00</updated><title type='text'>fireworks</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;font-size:85%;"&gt;What happend to me..&lt;br /&gt;Am I completely screwed up.. Or have I just become apathic..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can cry over friends or family who are sick.. But when it comes to me.. I can not cry..&lt;br /&gt;I feel the pain.. but tears won't flow .. is this a sign of being stronger and not getting caught up in the moment.. or a sign that it wasn't right and ending it was the right thing to do?&lt;br /&gt;Well I don't believe it.. &lt;br /&gt;It felt right... I felt in love.. it felt comfortable..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it right when it feels comfortable? or is comfortable a sign that their aren't any fireworks...&lt;br /&gt;How do you get fireworks? Is it something that grows, or do you need fireworks right from the start?&lt;br /&gt;Are fireworks really necessary?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know anymore..&lt;br /&gt;I'm screwed..&lt;br /&gt;I'm the kid who can not cry over her loss..&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2644611870002765418-2077528099445158847?l=dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/feeds/2077528099445158847/comments/default' title='Reacties plaatsen'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2644611870002765418&amp;postID=2077528099445158847' title='0 reacties'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/2077528099445158847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2644611870002765418/posts/default/2077528099445158847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dorancaughtinamoment.blogspot.com/2007/01/fireworks.html' title='fireworks'/><author><name>Doran</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11581686952328530886</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>
