<?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-2615104729579468998</id><updated>2011-07-28T13:27:13.211-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Heartbreak Hotel</title><subtitle type='html'>A victim of love but now, it's completely a different story.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ihavetostopthinkingaboutyou.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2615104729579468998/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ihavetostopthinkingaboutyou.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>November</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09564881066746263314</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>2</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2615104729579468998.post-1817963067018950454</id><published>2009-08-14T13:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-14T18:06:01.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You have premission to break my heart (Part 2)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mzF6fFvGDNU/SoXpM4U3k2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/9AzduEUnc8A/s1600-h/b"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 195px; height: 130px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mzF6fFvGDNU/SoXpM4U3k2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/9AzduEUnc8A/s320/b" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369954538196800354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://song71.6arab.com/mohandes_Ansaa.rm"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;http://song71.6arab.com/mohandes_Ansaa.rm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Faisal always knew what to say and when to say it. When Laila first met him, she was not prepared to melt. He was strikingly handsome with Arabian eyes. They were piercingly beautiful, from the very start - she could lose herself in them. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Fe 7al ba7er men ghar meena .. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Of course, Faisal was forbidden men il bedaya. (&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);"&gt;Don’t you love beginnings, where you know you can’t have what you really want? After sometime, you begin to love the slap, it becomes reassuring that your human and can feel.&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Faisal was twenty-three and a Saudi prince. Laila just turned eighteen. He was studying abroad in the same university as Laila. Earlier in the day, she was shopping with these Arab girls who felt the need to welcome her. Dalia, Nada and Nora wanted to help her settle into a new life and eventually become a friend of theirs. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;The girls marched strategically in the mall being careful not to miss any shop. They were on a raid mission to buy out all the stores. Laila was bored and tired of shopping. She wasn’t in the mood to shop. She wanted to go home. More specifically, take a plane back to Kuwait. It was only day 5 and no one missed her. She hasn’t received any international calls. So she was justified to feel sad, her family seems to have forgotten all about her. Careful to mask her sadness, she managed to smile that long boring day. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Once the girls started to work up an appetite, they decided to introduce Laila to their circle of friends. The men in their lives.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;**&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;4:30 pm&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Food court&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Faisal was busy playing with his mobile and texting. Rashed was talking to his gf on the phone. Meshal was playing rate the girl who passes by with his buddy Ahmed. They were giving out 10’s as Laila stopped walking and noticed the guys had just rated her. Nice! She never guessed she was a 10, maybe a 7.5 but never a 10. Intrigued at the girl who was blocking his light, Faisal looked up to see Laila smiling at them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Prepared to be auctioned to these guys, Laila brushed on a fake smile and said “&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;Esalam 3alekoom.&lt;/span&gt;” They replied instantly. Faisal had now stopped texting and diverted his attention to Laila. Laila was too lost to realize how fixed Faisal was, admiring her beauty. She carefully shook each of the guys’ hands as Nora introduced them. She left the sexiest for last. As Nora pointed to Faisal, she followed her introduction with “&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;and this is my brother Faisal.&lt;/span&gt;” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Laila shook his hand firmly, while the others scattered around to hunt for food. He carefully let go of her hand, and knowing the coast was clear, his left eye scrunched up and he gave Laila a wink, his dimples followed his sly smile.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Banat el riyadh .. ana bint likuwait ...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Laila knew Faisal was going to be bad for her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt; She made a mental note to herself to never be alone with Faisal. And Faisal made a mental note to himself, "&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;el gumar ye6la3 fil nehar a7yan.&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ps. He dedicated that song.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2615104729579468998-1817963067018950454?l=ihavetostopthinkingaboutyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ihavetostopthinkingaboutyou.blogspot.com/feeds/1817963067018950454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ihavetostopthinkingaboutyou.blogspot.com/2009/08/you-have-premission-to-break-my-heart_14.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2615104729579468998/posts/default/1817963067018950454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2615104729579468998/posts/default/1817963067018950454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ihavetostopthinkingaboutyou.blogspot.com/2009/08/you-have-premission-to-break-my-heart_14.html' title='You have premission to break my heart (Part 2)'/><author><name>November</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09564881066746263314</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_mzF6fFvGDNU/SoXpM4U3k2I/AAAAAAAAAAY/9AzduEUnc8A/s72-c/b' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2615104729579468998.post-3963852422257398126</id><published>2009-08-13T21:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-13T22:03:14.628-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You have premission to break my heart (Part 1)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mzF6fFvGDNU/SoTnyrKKmdI/AAAAAAAAAAM/mn_hI2Xfv7Y/s1600-h/a"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 179px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mzF6fFvGDNU/SoTnyrKKmdI/AAAAAAAAAAM/mn_hI2Xfv7Y/s320/a" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369671513497311698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;I don't know if this is wise, and I don't expect my words to make sense to anyone but me .. So I think I should start from the end, of why I need to stop thinking about him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;If you're interested in reading more,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;leave a comment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;And if you don't care, it doesn't make a difference,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;I'm going to slowly take out the glass He carefully placed in my heart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;He was my Faisal and I was Laila.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"&gt;He broke my heart from the very start. His coffee black eyes and full lips came together and said " &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Laila, are you sure you want to do this .. you know you can never be mine ...&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laila took a deep breathe, careful not to sound afraid and unsure. She pressed her soft lips together and quietly whispered " &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"&gt;You only live once ..&lt;/span&gt; "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Faisal smiled, Laila's heart slowly prepared for a shutdown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2615104729579468998-3963852422257398126?l=ihavetostopthinkingaboutyou.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ihavetostopthinkingaboutyou.blogspot.com/feeds/3963852422257398126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ihavetostopthinkingaboutyou.blogspot.com/2009/08/you-have-premission-to-break-my-heart.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2615104729579468998/posts/default/3963852422257398126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2615104729579468998/posts/default/3963852422257398126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ihavetostopthinkingaboutyou.blogspot.com/2009/08/you-have-premission-to-break-my-heart.html' title='You have premission to break my heart (Part 1)'/><author><name>November</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09564881066746263314</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><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_mzF6fFvGDNU/SoTnyrKKmdI/AAAAAAAAAAM/mn_hI2Xfv7Y/s72-c/a' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
