<?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-3776151878859676533</id><updated>2012-01-27T11:54:57.367-02:00</updated><category term='controle'/><category term='ham on rye'/><category term='desperate'/><category term='redução da maioridade penal'/><category term='revolutionary road'/><category term='Sarah Polley'/><category term='demons'/><category term='thoughts'/><category term='quote'/><category term='Tim Robbins'/><category term='opinião'/><category term='The Secret Life of Words'/><category term='desabafo pacato'/><category term='Movie'/><category term='liberdade'/><title type='text'>Meu Novo Mundo</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>130</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-7316502586175950557</id><published>2011-12-14T23:35:00.003-02:00</published><updated>2011-12-14T23:35:58.549-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Walking through the path</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Necessitando de um momento de reflexão, após incessantes momentos tortuosos, vi a mim mesma, mais perdida do que imaginava. Continuo à margem de muitas situações, de muitos sentimentos, de muitas... dúvidas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.smbtraining.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/path-to-1k.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.smbtraining.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/path-to-1k.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Ainda não encontrei o erro. Permaneço nesse caminho escuro, o qual, feliz ou não, escolhi trilhar. Mas cansei. Cansei de tentar consertar as peças quebradas que encontro no caminho, pois percebi que essas peças são as mesmas, que mesmo após reparo, voltam a se quebrar. Cansei de estar disponível para ouvir o som do rio que atravessa o caminho, pois quando preciso que ele me escute, ou pelo menos me conforte, ele está se movimentando para longe de mim. Cansei de lançar sorrisos sinceros para os pássaros que, na verdade, são feras selvagens. Em suma, preciso encontrar outro caminho para trilhar, embora saiba que qualquer um é tão passível de erros quanto o atual, respirar um novo ar é sempre bom.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&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/3776151878859676533-7316502586175950557?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/7316502586175950557/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=7316502586175950557&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/7316502586175950557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/7316502586175950557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/12/walking-through-path.html' title='Walking through the path'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-6820875629501497475</id><published>2011-12-07T19:58:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2011-12-07T20:19:59.868-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Allowed</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Não posso dizer que compreendo tudo. Dizer "eu compreendo" em toda situação, às vezes é meio que paliativo. Não entendeu? Bom, não vou explicar. O que acontece é que, eu consigo compreender os momentos necessários consigo mesmo, a falta de "abertura" para conversas, a necessidade de&amp;nbsp;um abraço, o stress do dia-a-dia..., mas não&amp;nbsp;tenho a capacidade, e nem quero ter, de compreender&amp;nbsp;o&amp;nbsp;quão distante as pessoas podem&amp;nbsp;estar, mesmo encontrando-se no mesmo recinto, não procuro entender&amp;nbsp;como dia após dia vivemos&amp;nbsp;sem&amp;nbsp;gosto e tão rápido. No fundo,&amp;nbsp;cogito o que seja isso, involutariamente.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Me aguarde sono. Estou chegando.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Espero que o despertar seja mais aprazível amanhã.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-6820875629501497475?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/6820875629501497475/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=6820875629501497475&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/6820875629501497475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/6820875629501497475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/12/allowed.html' title='Allowed'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-3119566334480667752</id><published>2011-12-02T19:45:00.001-02:00</published><updated>2011-12-02T19:58:01.957-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Sem Título XXVI</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;You know, I do not think I am capable to forgive anyone, because I do not forget things, bad things, easily. And most of times,&amp;nbsp; I DO NOT forget! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can forget too many things about math, grammar, "important things",&amp;nbsp;and so on. But&amp;nbsp;I guess&amp;nbsp;that's because these things need training to our brain no to&amp;nbsp;throw away.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;What can I do? I feel umconfortable when, suddenly,&amp;nbsp;some thoughts come. I need some time by myself to grieve and get some good behavior.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-3119566334480667752?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/3119566334480667752/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=3119566334480667752&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/3119566334480667752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/3119566334480667752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/12/sem-titulo-xxvi.html' title='Sem Título XXVI'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-2854055281514570186</id><published>2011-11-08T23:06:00.000-02:00</published><updated>2011-11-08T23:08:21.667-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Objetos de alegria são descartáveis; de tristeza, permanentes</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Simplesmente gostaria de apagar muitas coisas de minha memória. Volta e meia me surpreendo pensando em tantas coisas que foram, e ainda são, ruins para mim. Bate a velha vontade de fugir, para onde quer que seja, e acredito, feliz ou infelizmente, não pela última vez.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Por que, nos momentos em que mais preciso expor verbalmente as dores e pensamentos, não tem ninguém por perto? Talvez não deva ser expressado desta maneira, no fim das contas...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Ao redor há muito barulho, existem pessoas. Continuo a me sentir em companhia dos meus infernos pessoais.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-2854055281514570186?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/2854055281514570186/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=2854055281514570186&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2854055281514570186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2854055281514570186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/11/objetos-de-alegria-sao-descartaveis-de.html' title='Objetos de alegria são descartáveis; de tristeza, permanentes'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-1065871256929127016</id><published>2011-11-04T19:25:00.003-02:00</published><updated>2011-11-28T21:24:56.086-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't call me friend</title><content type='html'>I've been asking to myself, as I always do, what the hell am I doing here, what kind of friends do I have. What miserable life I have lived. I think I like it, that's the real answer, period.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's no need for attention, only comprehension.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you give me this? I don't think so.&lt;br /&gt;I feel cold...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AdQA1PUmQ78/TrRYFpR_o1I/AAAAAAAAAsM/H4suunCUdow/s1600/the_sunset_in_glasgow_by_lapsonen-d4f32hr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AdQA1PUmQ78/TrRYFpR_o1I/AAAAAAAAAsM/H4suunCUdow/s320/the_sunset_in_glasgow_by_lapsonen-d4f32hr.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-1065871256929127016?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/1065871256929127016/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=1065871256929127016&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/1065871256929127016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/1065871256929127016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/11/dont-call-me-friend.html' title='Don&apos;t call me friend'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AdQA1PUmQ78/TrRYFpR_o1I/AAAAAAAAAsM/H4suunCUdow/s72-c/the_sunset_in_glasgow_by_lapsonen-d4f32hr.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-3198431245150899900</id><published>2011-10-14T17:45:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2011-11-28T21:26:02.794-02:00</updated><title type='text'>Der Steppenwolf</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Desejo compartilhar trechos de um livro que venho lendo com muito barulho ao redor, em corredores, deitada e às vezes,&amp;nbsp;encolhida. São frases que me lembraram de coisas guardadas no recôndito espaço de minha memória e me alegrou, pois são palavras que há muito compartilho comigo mesma. É um livro difícil, linguagem rebuscada e, como sempre, Hesse toca o "eu".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"O homem devia orgulhar-se da&amp;nbsp; dor; toda dor é uma manifestação de nossa elevada estirpe." p.26&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"...Não é engraçado? Naturalmente, não querem nadar. Nasceram para andar na terra e não para a água. E, naturalmente, não querem pensar: foram criados para viver e não para pensar! Isto mesmo! E quem pensa, quem faz do pensamento sua principal atividade, pode chegar muito longe com isso, mas sem dúvida estará confundindo a terra com a água e um dia morrerá afogado." p. 26&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Sou, na verdade, o Lobo da Estepe, como me digo tantas vezes&amp;nbsp; - aquele animal extraviado que não encontra abrigo nem ar nem alimento num mundo que lhe é estranho e incompreensível." p. 41&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Solidão é independência, com ela eu sempre sonhara e a obtivera afinal após tantos anos. Era fria, oh! sim!, mas também era silenciosa e grande como o frio espaço silente em que giram as estrelas." p. 48&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Pois todos os que com ele se deram viram apenas uma das partes de seu ser. Muitos o estimaram por ser uma pessoa inteligente, refinada e arguta, e mostraram-se horrorizados e desapontados quando descobriram o lobo que morava nele." p. 54&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Para trás não conduz a nenhum caminho, nem para o lobo nem para a criança. No princípio das coisas não há simplicidade nem inocência; tudo o que foi criado, até o que parece mais simples, é já culpável, já complexo, foi lançado ao sujo torvelinho no desenvolvimento e já não pode, não poderá nunca mais, nadar contra a corrente." p. 74&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Ainda estou em processo de leitura, mas sei que muitas coisas só compreenderei melhor quando ler O Lobo da Estepe mais vezes, porque na vivência, já sei&amp;nbsp;alguma coisa...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-3198431245150899900?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/3198431245150899900/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=3198431245150899900&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/3198431245150899900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/3198431245150899900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/10/der-steppenwolf.html' title='Der Steppenwolf'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-1355051607083949433</id><published>2011-10-04T13:23:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2011-10-04T13:27:11.375-03:00</updated><title type='text'>All good things must come to an end</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Algumas coisas custam uma eternidade para "entrarem" na cabeça, e uma delas é a ciência de que "se algo não foi compreendido inteiramente, não deve ser levado adiante". É apenas (?) aquela velha falta de atenção e desorganização de pensamentos que mantém essa linha em constante crescimento.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;O que tem nela, além da ciência citada anteriormente?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Você não cresce mentalmente, fica estagnado enquanto seu corpo apodrece no ritmo contidiano. Nenhum fator cognitivo é desenvolvimento plenamente e no fim, só há angústia e medo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-1355051607083949433?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/1355051607083949433/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=1355051607083949433&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/1355051607083949433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/1355051607083949433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/10/all-good-things-must-come-to-end.html' title='All good things must come to an end'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-916192503743636797</id><published>2011-09-22T23:52:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2011-09-22T23:52:39.387-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Come back again...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;﻿Curioso como coisas singelas fazem a dor, tanto física quanto mental desaparecem, e alegram o fim de um dia que fez de tudo para a noite ser desastrosa. Pessoas que lançam sorrisos sinceros gratuitamente e usam, abusadamente, de palavras como "obrigado", "por favor" e "por nada", me deixam feliz e me fazem sentir que o mundo é belo, mesmo estando no olho do furacão.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;É sentir a leveza do ser em dias estressantes, regados a caos e muita impaciência. Isso vale muito a pena.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-916192503743636797?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/916192503743636797/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=916192503743636797&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/916192503743636797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/916192503743636797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/09/come-back-again.html' title='Come back again...'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-3158931614514945654</id><published>2011-09-18T18:44:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2011-09-18T18:44:51.191-03:00</updated><title type='text'>The benefit of doubt</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;The most important and simple thing I&amp;nbsp;can get. Doubt is a free benefit that life gives to us. Easy and free, what else&amp;nbsp;am I&amp;nbsp;supposed&amp;nbsp;to want?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything I need is inside the doubts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-A4IkZACKTcQ/TnZl436rqoI/AAAAAAAAAqM/zlnAXbn2tyE/s1600/doubtsonme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" rba="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-A4IkZACKTcQ/TnZl436rqoI/AAAAAAAAAqM/zlnAXbn2tyE/s200/doubtsonme.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-3158931614514945654?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/3158931614514945654/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=3158931614514945654&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/3158931614514945654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/3158931614514945654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/09/benefit-of-doubt.html' title='The benefit of doubt'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-A4IkZACKTcQ/TnZl436rqoI/AAAAAAAAAqM/zlnAXbn2tyE/s72-c/doubtsonme.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-7937779289067374635</id><published>2011-09-01T20:26:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2011-09-01T20:26:51.687-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Blindness and death are friends</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Tenho me sentido como numa areia movediça, eu não consigo me mover﻿, não tenho forças; apenas ela me movimenta, para baixo, cada vez mais baixo.&amp;nbsp;Não há ninguém para me ajudar e, mesmo assim, eu não grito, nem mesmo sussurro para que alguém o faça.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a7TPh3kzM_M/TmAUmp_aUkI/AAAAAAAAAqI/cRkHFRRPHCM/s1600/blindness.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="143" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a7TPh3kzM_M/TmAUmp_aUkI/AAAAAAAAAqI/cRkHFRRPHCM/s320/blindness.jpg" width="320" xaa="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;As pessoas se tornaram cegas?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-7937779289067374635?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/7937779289067374635/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=7937779289067374635&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/7937779289067374635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/7937779289067374635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/09/blindness-and-death-are-friends.html' title='Blindness and death are friends'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a7TPh3kzM_M/TmAUmp_aUkI/AAAAAAAAAqI/cRkHFRRPHCM/s72-c/blindness.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-8490609430557983149</id><published>2011-08-21T20:25:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2011-08-21T20:25:47.667-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ham on rye'/><title type='text'>Chinaski's thoughts</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"&lt;em&gt;Eu não tinha interesses. Eu não tinha interesse por nada. Não fazia a mínima ideia de como iria escapar&lt;/em&gt;. Os outros, ao menos, tinham algum gosto pela vida. Pareciam entender algo que me era inacessível. Talvez eu fosse retardado. Era possível. &lt;em&gt;Frequentemente me sentia inferior&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;em&gt;Queria apenas encontrar um jeito de me afastar de todo mundo. Mas não havia lugar para ir&lt;/em&gt;. Suicídio? Jesus Cristo, apenas mais trabalho. &lt;em&gt;Sentia que o ideal era poder dormir por uns cinco anos, mas isso eles não permitiriam&lt;/em&gt;." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"A vida das pessoas sãs, dos homens comuns, era uma estupidez pior do que a morte. &lt;em&gt;Parecia não haver alternativa possível&lt;/em&gt;. A eduação também parecia uma armadilha. &lt;em&gt;A pouca educação que eu tinha me permitido havia me tornado ainda mais desconfiado&lt;/em&gt;. O que eram médicos, advogados, cientistas? Apenas homens que tinham permitido que sua liberdade de pensamento e a capacidade de agir como indivíduos lhes fosse retirada. Voltei para o meu barracão e enchi a cara..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trechos que necessitavam ser compartilhados. &lt;br /&gt;Agora&amp;nbsp;estão satisfeitos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-8490609430557983149?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/8490609430557983149/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=8490609430557983149&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8490609430557983149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8490609430557983149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/08/chinaskis-thoughts.html' title='Chinaski&apos;s thoughts'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-4662079017621879642</id><published>2011-08-13T17:04:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2011-08-13T17:07:21.481-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='revolutionary road'/><title type='text'>Sem Título XXV</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"It’s a disease. Nobody thinks or feels or cares any more; nobody gets excited or believes in anything except their own comfortable little God damn mediocrity."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;Revolutionary Road &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;- Richard Yates &lt;/div&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="April " src="http://26.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lnb3t54pQt1qdcy19o1_500.gif" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do I need to say anything else?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-4662079017621879642?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/4662079017621879642/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=4662079017621879642&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/4662079017621879642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/4662079017621879642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/08/sem-titulo-xxv.html' title='Sem Título XXV'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-1134160117489176754</id><published>2011-08-11T20:14:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2011-08-11T20:14:43.123-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Accepting cliche</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Nada mais do que natural. Aceitar certos clichês, porque no fundo, eles tem um quê de sabedoria, ainda que popular, mas tem.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Nada é tão bom quanto parece." &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Este é o clicê do momento e penso que é universal. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Já parou para se perguntar questões triviais e depois percebeu que realmente o que parecia bom, de fato, não é? Aconteceu algo legal e depois viu que era só mais uma coisa que deveria ser finalizada? Caiu na real depois de ter tomado muito na cara e, na maioria das vezes, aguentado firme?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Pois então...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tão cansada de certas atitudes que aparentemente parecem bobas,&amp;nbsp;mas que &amp;nbsp;no fundo revelam muitas coisas. &lt;em&gt;Make me laugh, please&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-1134160117489176754?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/1134160117489176754/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=1134160117489176754&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/1134160117489176754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/1134160117489176754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/08/accepting-cliche.html' title='Accepting cliche'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-2992122268134002973</id><published>2011-08-10T19:33:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2011-08-10T19:42:05.017-03:00</updated><title type='text'>My body is a cage</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I could tell too many things but, the words, the subjects, had just gone. And after a long time, I'm not tired to affirm that same things that I always affirmed, to doubt the same things I always doubt. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still locked within myself.&lt;br /&gt;I'm still feeling like&amp;nbsp;the last days.&lt;br /&gt;I want freedom and, perharps, I'll be more pleasant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-myKUtdG19_s/TkMHJvVL5HI/AAAAAAAAApk/rvDkGo04AaY/s1600/roadoffreedom.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="146" naa="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-myKUtdG19_s/TkMHJvVL5HI/AAAAAAAAApk/rvDkGo04AaY/s200/roadoffreedom.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-2992122268134002973?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/2992122268134002973/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=2992122268134002973&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2992122268134002973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2992122268134002973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/08/my-body-is-cage.html' title='My body is a cage'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-myKUtdG19_s/TkMHJvVL5HI/AAAAAAAAApk/rvDkGo04AaY/s72-c/roadoffreedom.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-2350742418198801949</id><published>2011-07-25T19:03:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2011-07-25T19:08:41.399-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunset</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Sentada&amp;nbsp;ao&amp;nbsp;pôr-do-sol, observando-o. Lentamente, sua partida se torna ainda mais iminente, para trabalhar em outro lugar, acalmando corações e mentes, acalentando almas. Não há ninguém lá, apenas ele e eu, olhando um para o outro. Em silêncio chegamos, em silêncio permanecemos. Conhecemo-nos um ao outro apenas observando e aproveitando o momento ameno e traquilizante, então dizemos adeus...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EW0CTZ6dNMY/Ti3ndV-cF6I/AAAAAAAAApg/BukQaqNepf0/s1600/SunGoes" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EW0CTZ6dNMY/Ti3ndV-cF6I/AAAAAAAAApg/BukQaqNepf0/s320/SunGoes" t$="true" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"The sun goes, but it&amp;nbsp;will be back the next day."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-2350742418198801949?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/2350742418198801949/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=2350742418198801949&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2350742418198801949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2350742418198801949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/07/sunset.html' title='Sunset'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EW0CTZ6dNMY/Ti3ndV-cF6I/AAAAAAAAApg/BukQaqNepf0/s72-c/SunGoes' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-4751139035635805141</id><published>2011-07-24T20:18:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2011-07-24T20:21:23.736-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thoughts'/><title type='text'>Fucked up</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Uma vez me disseram que quem pensa demais acaba ficando maluco. Acho que concordo...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Os últimos tempos tem sido desconfortáveis, e a mente, recheada de pensamentos, que em sua maioria, não são bons. Pensando em concluir coisas inacabadas, abandonar coisas que já passaram do tempo útil de uso; pensando que as pessoas continuam a me fazer sentir&amp;nbsp;mal para que&amp;nbsp;&lt;em&gt;eu&lt;/em&gt; diga adeus...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não acho&amp;nbsp;nada disso muito legal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Apesar de tudo, não quero conselhos e opiniões&amp;nbsp;de nada que diga respeito à minha vida. Quero quebrar a cara, ou não, com minhas próprias decisões.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-4751139035635805141?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/4751139035635805141/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=4751139035635805141&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/4751139035635805141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/4751139035635805141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/07/fucked-up.html' title='Fucked up'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-2163965620937964996</id><published>2011-07-14T19:50:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2011-07-14T19:50:47.093-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='desperate'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='demons'/><title type='text'>How far will I go?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Can you imagine yourself with a gun pointed to your head and suddenly pulling the trigger?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;It's over. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Now, imagine yourself with somes friends on the beach, drinking and having fun on a sunny sunday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;What do you feel?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Think only about you, sleeping on the couch while the&amp;nbsp;TV is turned on and feeling safe. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;What about walking at 5:00am? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;I don't think I'll go too far, but it's a beginning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lQS2N66ISd8/Th9yaGOvSMI/AAAAAAAAApc/mwVdzQuDKvE/s1600/inner_demons_by_gironimo-d33p9uo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" m$="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lQS2N66ISd8/Th9yaGOvSMI/AAAAAAAAApc/mwVdzQuDKvE/s200/inner_demons_by_gironimo-d33p9uo.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-2163965620937964996?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/2163965620937964996/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=2163965620937964996&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2163965620937964996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2163965620937964996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/07/how-far-will-i-go.html' title='How far will I go?'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lQS2N66ISd8/Th9yaGOvSMI/AAAAAAAAApc/mwVdzQuDKvE/s72-c/inner_demons_by_gironimo-d33p9uo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-8853711190760445128</id><published>2011-07-09T16:21:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2011-07-09T16:21:11.974-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Inside the bus</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;É bom estar entre estranhos. Sentada em silêncio, observando as paisagens, às vezes repetidas, passando por pontos e mais pontos de descida, vendo pessoas entrando e saindo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Os melhores horários são à noite. A brisa, o silêncio, poucos passageiros. Um ótimo momento para refletir sobre coisas ou não pensar em nada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vw4MyPtpnpg/ThipRGOjXQI/AAAAAAAAApY/nJQzrJCWSX4/s1600/bus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="291" m$="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vw4MyPtpnpg/ThipRGOjXQI/AAAAAAAAApY/nJQzrJCWSX4/s320/bus.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&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/3776151878859676533-8853711190760445128?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/8853711190760445128/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=8853711190760445128&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8853711190760445128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8853711190760445128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/07/inside-bus.html' title='Inside the bus'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vw4MyPtpnpg/ThipRGOjXQI/AAAAAAAAApY/nJQzrJCWSX4/s72-c/bus.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-2113630818639949887</id><published>2011-07-07T23:42:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2011-07-07T23:46:26.589-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='thoughts'/><title type='text'>What does trust mean to you?</title><content type='html'>Honestly? It means lots of things. But it depends. &lt;br /&gt;I do care about "trust", without it, it's just impossible to go ahead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually, I breath trust, and if it is dirty, I can die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Linus: Nothing goes on forever. All good things must come to an end...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Charlie: When do the good things start?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;- Peanuts &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ask it to myself repeatedly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-2113630818639949887?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2113630818639949887'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2113630818639949887'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/07/what-does-trust-mean-to-you.html' title='What does trust mean to you?'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-8255611225334669767</id><published>2011-06-30T20:58:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2011-06-30T20:58:29.045-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Fellowship of emptiness</title><content type='html'>Just accepting things: there's no pieces that fits me.&lt;br /&gt;The world is a mess.&amp;nbsp;But I want to try on more.&lt;br /&gt;Just can't close my eyes anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's no telling how deeply I can go, but I won't give up, I guess...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-8255611225334669767?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8255611225334669767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8255611225334669767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/06/fellowship-of-emptiness.html' title='Fellowship of emptiness'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-7080673189693583975</id><published>2011-06-22T21:34:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2011-06-22T21:36:34.323-03:00</updated><title type='text'>need</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;The monsters under my bed finally touched me.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I do not know how much sad is going to be enough to my mind get a collapse.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rHCCSowEy_M/TgKJj_zvu6I/AAAAAAAAApU/tr1oih27vus/s1600/My_Monsters_Tuk_Me_in_at_Night_by_BartBar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" i$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rHCCSowEy_M/TgKJj_zvu6I/AAAAAAAAApU/tr1oih27vus/s320/My_Monsters_Tuk_Me_in_at_Night_by_BartBar.jpg" width="232" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm leaving because I'm so tired of being hurt.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-7080673189693583975?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/7080673189693583975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/7080673189693583975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/06/need.html' title='need'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rHCCSowEy_M/TgKJj_zvu6I/AAAAAAAAApU/tr1oih27vus/s72-c/My_Monsters_Tuk_Me_in_at_Night_by_BartBar.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-3352062251293082036</id><published>2011-06-18T15:24:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2011-06-18T15:24:16.261-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Odd times</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-F-Ss-38Xbuw/Tfzr4LNV50I/AAAAAAAAApQ/oKoAq5jO5Ek/s1600/alone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="160" i$="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-F-Ss-38Xbuw/Tfzr4LNV50I/AAAAAAAAApQ/oKoAq5jO5Ek/s200/alone.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;﻿﻿ ﻿﻿ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I would like to forget somethings, because every time I remember them, I feel sad and uncomfortable. Miserable. I don't think I deserve so many bad things happening at the same time. Rush, heartbreak, headaches...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like getting comprehension.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-3352062251293082036?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/3352062251293082036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/3352062251293082036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/06/odd-times_18.html' title='Odd times'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-F-Ss-38Xbuw/Tfzr4LNV50I/AAAAAAAAApQ/oKoAq5jO5Ek/s72-c/alone.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-5114986604335090706</id><published>2011-05-23T20:04:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2011-05-23T20:10:57.972-03:00</updated><title type='text'>O que eu não quero</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;﻿Até que eu gostaria de ter certeza acerca das coisas que eu quero ser/fazer, mas pensando bem, eu prefiro ter certeza das coisas que eu não quero ser/fazer. Acho que assim é mais fácil (?).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Não quero ficar presa em uma jaula, embora a comodidade seja bem provável de ser adquirida. E não, não gostaria de ser mais uma "housewife", o cuidado com as minhas coisas deve existir, porém, acompanhado de um bom emprego. O cansaço sempre vai existir, mas não quero relaxar demais. Não quero continuar a me preocupar com quem não se preocupa comigo, pode chamar do que quiser, egoísmo, que seja. Também não gostaria de ser pesquisadora, muito menos palestrante, ou professora. Não quero viver com meus pais até os 30.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Acho que só... por enquanto.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-5114986604335090706?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/5114986604335090706/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=5114986604335090706&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/5114986604335090706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/5114986604335090706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/05/o-que-eu-nao-quero.html' title='O que eu não quero'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-1992386203636595289</id><published>2011-05-20T21:00:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2011-05-20T21:00:14.442-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Run away</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;"Fugir não é só correr de um lugar, mas também chegar a outro."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/yellow_point/"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" j8="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZsoAD1yEYDI/Tdb-07vZBdI/AAAAAAAAApM/KQjw8Fr_EtA/s320/ranaway.JPG" width="239" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Quem corre desesperadamente de algo/alguém/lugar, deve ter consciência que vai chegar a outro algo/alguém/lugar. Mas,&amp;nbsp;às vezes,&amp;nbsp;é bom fugir, não importa para o que seja e muito menos o porquê.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-1992386203636595289?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/1992386203636595289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/1992386203636595289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/05/run-away_2967.html' title='Run away'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZsoAD1yEYDI/Tdb-07vZBdI/AAAAAAAAApM/KQjw8Fr_EtA/s72-c/ranaway.JPG' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-6976443453280194149</id><published>2011-05-13T21:11:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2011-05-13T21:11:29.102-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Almost twenty two</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Nessas minhas oscilações de humor, leitura de algumas coisas de assuntos diversos e situações desesperadoras, surgiram novos momentos de reflexão sobre “a vida”, a minha, especialmente.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Como devo agir em algumas situações, o que fazer quando o silêncio começa a perturbar de uma maneira indireta. Como dar uma brecada no percurso natural das coisas para pensar antes de elas se tornarem tão assustadoras. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9R8QxcED8s8/Tc3HxL2NJ9I/AAAAAAAAApI/3qBTcHArrEE/s1600/100_0024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" j8="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9R8QxcED8s8/Tc3HxL2NJ9I/AAAAAAAAApI/3qBTcHArrEE/s200/100_0024.JPG" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Tenho me sentido estranha, sem um sentimento definido, sem pressa. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-6976443453280194149?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/6976443453280194149/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=6976443453280194149&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/6976443453280194149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/6976443453280194149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/05/almost-twenty-two.html' title='Almost twenty two'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9R8QxcED8s8/Tc3HxL2NJ9I/AAAAAAAAApI/3qBTcHArrEE/s72-c/100_0024.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-3138889632884140199</id><published>2011-04-28T18:55:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2011-04-28T19:01:50.657-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Eu, paradoxal</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Pressentimentos horríveis sobre coisas que parecem tão próximas e tão distantes ao mesmo tempo. Aquele velho sofrimento por antecipação, é,&amp;nbsp;parece&amp;nbsp;mesmo um gostinho por&amp;nbsp;masoquismo. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Tentativas vãs de afastar o medo e os tremores que abalam não só a&amp;nbsp;mente mas o físico também. São dores em lugares que ninguém quer sentir. Receios que deixa qualquer percepção à flor da pele, à beira de um abismo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Aquela antiga vontade de sentar e conversar, com qualquer um que tenha bons ouvidos, sobre as coisas boas e sobre as ruins.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Tô com saudade de algo que ainda não experimentei...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&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/3776151878859676533-3138889632884140199?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/3138889632884140199/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=3138889632884140199&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/3138889632884140199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/3138889632884140199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/04/eu-paradoxal.html' title='Eu, paradoxal'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-6237267951713197878</id><published>2011-04-09T13:23:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2011-04-09T13:23:40.495-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sem Título XXIV</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Mais uma vez, volto-me para o "eu". Esta noção do subjetivo é a peça chave para a&amp;nbsp; compreensão da configuração do coletivo. Como poderia contribuir positivamente para o quer que seja se nem ao menos paro e escuto?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A conscientização do eu, das nossas relações com a natureza, é a mais significativa ação que pode ser feita como primeiro passo para a mudança. Caminhe em direção a si mesmo, entenda-se, e depois vá ao encontro da humanidade.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-6237267951713197878?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/6237267951713197878/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=6237267951713197878&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/6237267951713197878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/6237267951713197878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/04/sem-titulo-xxiv.html' title='Sem Título XXIV'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-5497120856294444852</id><published>2011-03-22T19:20:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2011-03-22T19:24:24.485-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sem Título XXIII</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Dia estressante...&lt;br /&gt;Um calor horroroso se comparado ao frescor da brisa de ontem; um ônibus lotado (até aí tudo bem, o problema foi alguém flatulento dentro dele); informações repetidas sendo passadas, fazendo com que eu &amp;nbsp;me sentisse na terceira idade e com problemas de concentração; informações que eu passava não sendo compreendidas; falta de energia na hora errada; muita papelada para organizar; almoço tardio; espera de vinte minutos, sob aquele sol infernal que queimava a minha pele, por um ônibus que viesse para o meu bairro; pensamentos confusos a respeito da vida e dos passos a serem seguidos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;[...]&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Dá para melhorar? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&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/3776151878859676533-5497120856294444852?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/5497120856294444852/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=5497120856294444852&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/5497120856294444852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/5497120856294444852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/03/sem-titulo-xxiii.html' title='Sem Título XXIII'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-8299598922239315771</id><published>2011-02-21T20:12:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2011-02-21T20:12:34.931-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sem Título XXII</title><content type='html'>Estava a pensar em coisas aleatórias e acabei por me perguntar o que é realmente importante para mim. &lt;br /&gt;Não soube responder...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Me senti impotente e sem qualquer perspectiva, não pela última vez. Então vieram todas as questões filosóficas, todos aqueles amaldiçoados questionamentos do porquê, quando, onde. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Não consigo enxergar muita coisa, está tudo embaçado como se estivesse fazendo muito frio e as janelas não oferecem uma visão limpa.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tudo está escuro demais.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-8299598922239315771?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/8299598922239315771/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=8299598922239315771&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8299598922239315771'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8299598922239315771'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/02/sem-titulo-xxii.html' title='Sem Título XXII'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-4225104557117087219</id><published>2011-02-06T14:35:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2011-02-06T14:35:11.635-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Defina domingo</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Ao contrário de muita gente, os domingos para mim, ultimamente, não são de todo ruins. Muito dias são ruins, e isso não é exclusividade dos domingos! Sextas podem ser ruins, quartas e sábados também. Enfim, o que acontece é que para um dia ser realmente mau ou bom, depende de inúmeros fatores e não apenas de não ser um dia de trabalho ou folga, da programação da tv, do barulho ou silêncio. O estado de espírito se modifica constantemente e não importa o que os outros digam. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoje é domingo e o dia está normal, nem bom e tão pouco mau. &lt;br /&gt;OK?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-4225104557117087219?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/4225104557117087219/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=4225104557117087219&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/4225104557117087219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/4225104557117087219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/02/defina-domingo.html' title='Defina domingo'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-6404108998081951288</id><published>2011-01-31T21:46:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2011-01-31T21:46:39.022-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad luck</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Situação desesperadora requer medidas desesperadoras. Quando alguém, que normalmente se deixa guiar pela razão, começa a apelar para o lado das emoções, do místico e das superstições, é que dá para perceber a dimensão do problema. Inaceitável, lamentável, penoso.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Nota-se também que é merecido o estado atual, afinal, a falta de sorte é a falta de empenho e desempenho. A necessidade atual é: água de coco, sombra, conversas (ou não)&amp;nbsp;e uma preparação válida para alavancar o que poderia ser promissor. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tô numa onda de azar.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-6404108998081951288?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/6404108998081951288/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=6404108998081951288&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/6404108998081951288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/6404108998081951288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/01/bad-luck.html' title='Bad luck'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-6544598925909391668</id><published>2011-01-27T19:00:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2011-02-09T16:44:40.663-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='redução da maioridade penal'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='opinião'/><title type='text'>Segregação hodierna</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Diante do atual índice de violência, é próprio da natureza humana, sofrendo estresses nesse mundo caótico, querer paz para caminhar tranquilamente pelas ruas sem medo de ser assaltado ou coisa pior. É sabido, por meio de diversos veículos informativos, que os atos infracionais cometidos por adolescentes no Brasil tem crescido de maneira trágica, e o governo, na tentativa de cumprir o seu dever, busca mudar o quadro, embora nem sempre da maneira mais pertinente.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;O discurso considerado um “ás na manga” das autoridades no assunto para a diminuição da violência é que, se o adolescente de dezesseis anos tem discernimento para escolher o governante da sua sociedade, por que não pode pagar pelas suas más escolhas? Não é bem assim, pois quem determinou que dezesseis anos fosse a idade considerada adequada ao ato de votar, exercendo assim a sua cidadania, salienta que não é obrigatório. Pensamos logo em algo imposto, pois os políticos sabem que nessa idade é mais fácil de lograr para conseguir mais votos. Não é politicamente correto esquecer o fato de que a adolescência é uma das piores fases da vida do ser humano, sujeita a reavaliação de certezas e medos, e encarcerar jovens de mente confusa e em fase de construção, definitivamente, não resolveria o caso da violência atual. Muito pelo contrário, essas medidas são, a meu ver, paliativas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Prender jovens que pratiquem infrações leves com equivalência aos adultos não representa, de maneira alguma, a redução da violência. Essa medida que está em discussão para alterar o código penal brasileiro serve apenas para postergar o compromisso com o bem estar de todos nós, afinal, o ideal sempre foi prevenir do que remediar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-6544598925909391668?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/6544598925909391668/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=6544598925909391668&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/6544598925909391668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/6544598925909391668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/01/segregacao-hodierna.html' title='Segregação hodierna'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-2857746360027944682</id><published>2011-01-21T10:39:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2011-01-21T10:39:00.380-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Frio numa noite de verão</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Sensações familiares nos meados de janeiro.&amp;nbsp;Estas que me perseguem aonde quer que eu vá, não importa qual seja a profundeza do lugar, não me deixam em paz. São sentidos que me deixam sem ar e com frio em pleno verão. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;Desespero e despreparo físico e mental.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" s5="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TTmLywE0kzI/AAAAAAAAAoE/3_YlurvFjLE/s200/Pain.jpg" width="150" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pic by &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://jakke.deviantart.com/"&gt;&lt;em&gt;here&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;.&lt;/em&gt;﻿&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-2857746360027944682?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/2857746360027944682/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=2857746360027944682&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2857746360027944682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2857746360027944682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/01/frio-numa-noite-de-verao.html' title='Frio numa noite de verão'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TTmLywE0kzI/AAAAAAAAAoE/3_YlurvFjLE/s72-c/Pain.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-7196787152702912409</id><published>2011-01-11T20:32:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2011-01-11T20:32:38.742-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sobre promessas e afins...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;O que&amp;nbsp;prometo fazer neste&amp;nbsp;ano? Não&amp;nbsp;prometo é nada. Sei, não de agora, mas há pouco tempo que prometer algo para mim mesma, assim como estabelecer metas, rotinas, planos, macumbas, pensamentos etc., não&amp;nbsp;adianta;&amp;nbsp;é muito mais fácil cumprir uma promessa feita a outrem&amp;nbsp;do que a si mesma, ponto final.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Essa coisa de listinhas não é&amp;nbsp;comigo, acho que as coisas acabam dando errado. Empiricamente, sei que as boas coisas acontencem sem planos,&amp;nbsp;sem rotas e sem bússolas, é assim.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;O que prometo fazer neste ano? Não prometo é nada!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-7196787152702912409?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/7196787152702912409/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=7196787152702912409&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/7196787152702912409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/7196787152702912409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2011/01/sobre-promessas-e-afins.html' title='Sobre promessas e afins...'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-5366333364159339757</id><published>2010-12-14T19:43:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2011-05-05T15:48:39.907-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Abaixo ao pedantismo</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Ter conhecimento sobre várias coisas é bom. Ajudar pessoas com o seu conhecimento, melhor ainda. Mas tem gente que adora dar uma de sabichão em qualquer oportunidade sendo um verdadeiro de "A a Z", e isso é absurdamente chato! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Quem gosta de passar horas com alguém assim? Só quem gosta de sofrer mesmo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Tive experiências horríveis com pedantes, não importava se o assunto era sobre uma receita de bolo ou sobre a natureza humana, alguns gostavam de brilhar, de mostrar que dominavam o assunto e estavam prontos para qualquer hora. Verdadeiros guerreiros! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Sempre me perguntei o porquê de agirem assim, será algum trauma&amp;nbsp;de infância que os fazem querer chamar a atenção, ou a solidão é demais a ponto de querer que todos vejam a disposição para tagarelar qualquer assunto. Sem equívocos, trato aqui do pedantismo não do ato de conversar a plenos pumões. Mas então, por que essas pessoas são assim? Que direito elas tem de atrapalhar uma discussão saudável sobre determinado assunto, e pior, impondo sua opinião como verdadeira e inquestionável?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Escutá-los? Até posso fazer. &lt;br /&gt;Aceitar as opiniões sem ativar meu senso crítico? Não mesmo!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-5366333364159339757?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/5366333364159339757/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=5366333364159339757&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/5366333364159339757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/5366333364159339757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/12/abaixo-ao-pedantismo.html' title='Abaixo ao pedantismo'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-4408673358298835358</id><published>2010-12-10T20:14:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2010-12-10T20:14:30.715-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Strange ways</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/waynemackeson/475540049/"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="198" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TQKzmm-hZQI/AAAAAAAAAno/DrHVICTSOaM/s200/Lost+HighWay.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;“É curioso que sigamos e acabamos por alcançar, inconscientemente, as coisas que mais desprezamos, os lugares que mais detestamos e as pessoas que mais evitamos.”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;- By myself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Pic by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/waynemackeson/475540049/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-4408673358298835358?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/4408673358298835358/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=4408673358298835358&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/4408673358298835358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/4408673358298835358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/12/strange-ways.html' title='Strange ways'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TQKzmm-hZQI/AAAAAAAAAno/DrHVICTSOaM/s72-c/Lost+HighWay.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-2030728368186478652</id><published>2010-12-02T19:30:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-12-02T20:04:33.124-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Equilibrium</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TPglzJETsUI/AAAAAAAAAnA/BxZ7jzvwbRA/s1600/Tattoo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546224501644308802" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TPglzJETsUI/AAAAAAAAAnA/BxZ7jzvwbRA/s200/Tattoo.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Dizer que adoro palavras cruas seria mentira, mas elas são necessárias ao extremo em certas horas. Em contrapartida, também é preciso dizer e ouvir palavras sensíveis, que consolem e provoquem sentimentos de compaixão e alívio.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Equilíbrio&lt;/em&gt; é a palavra-chave da vida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-2030728368186478652?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/2030728368186478652/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=2030728368186478652&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2030728368186478652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2030728368186478652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/12/equilibrium.html' title='Equilibrium'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TPglzJETsUI/AAAAAAAAAnA/BxZ7jzvwbRA/s72-c/Tattoo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-238946108951458827</id><published>2010-11-21T16:39:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-11-21T16:42:49.314-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='quote'/><title type='text'>Reality</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TOl1uY49VzI/AAAAAAAAAm4/lfpJs2RbT6I/s1600/Im%2Bnot%2Bstrange.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 117px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542090256271890226" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TOl1uY49VzI/AAAAAAAAAm4/lfpJs2RbT6I/s200/Im%2Bnot%2Bstrange.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;“&lt;em&gt;As coisas e pessoas estranhas são bonitas e interessantes apenas em filmes e livros. Na real, elas são apenas coisas e pessoas estranhas.&lt;/em&gt;”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;-&lt;em&gt; Por mim&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-238946108951458827?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/238946108951458827/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=238946108951458827&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/238946108951458827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/238946108951458827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/11/reality.html' title='Reality'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TOl1uY49VzI/AAAAAAAAAm4/lfpJs2RbT6I/s72-c/Im%2Bnot%2Bstrange.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-5041142993702112936</id><published>2010-11-18T15:05:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-11-18T15:17:33.137-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='quote'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='liberdade'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='controle'/><title type='text'>Quote</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jonycunha/4278434497/"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 149px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540955387014004018" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TOVtkTdBvTI/AAAAAAAAAmw/4aH6VMZQXgo/s200/ArameFarpado.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;"As coisas só são suas quando deixadas livres. Esta é a maneira de mantê-las sob controle."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;- Por mim&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-5041142993702112936?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/5041142993702112936/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=5041142993702112936&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/5041142993702112936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/5041142993702112936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/11/quote.html' title='Quote'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TOVtkTdBvTI/AAAAAAAAAmw/4aH6VMZQXgo/s72-c/ArameFarpado.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-2098676009792026819</id><published>2010-11-15T18:31:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-11-15T18:33:46.461-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Importância e necessidade</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/christianoneto/1193994599/"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 234px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539892348543057442" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TOGmvUjQPiI/AAAAAAAAAmI/G-Ef2wvAG-Y/s320/hug.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Enquanto algumas pessoas não sabem que não são importantes e que não influenciam em nada em sua vida, outras não tem noção do quão valiosas são."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;- Eu&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-2098676009792026819?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/2098676009792026819/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=2098676009792026819&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2098676009792026819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2098676009792026819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/11/importancia-e-necessidade.html' title='Importância e necessidade'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TOGmvUjQPiI/AAAAAAAAAmI/G-Ef2wvAG-Y/s72-c/hug.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-8549714656891319009</id><published>2010-10-27T20:28:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-10-27T20:43:19.512-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Somos multitarefa?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;É assim, rotação na máxima velocidade, trabalhos de variados tipos ao mesmo tempo, preocupações e dinamicidade querendo viver de mãos dadas. Não é cansativo?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Em algumas aulas, uma professora disse que o comportamento atual da sociedade é derivado, também, da situação econômica. Esta situação rege as nossas vidinhas medíocres e sem sentido lato. O argumento da dela foi muito bom, convincente, um tapa-na-cara-da-mente-que-se-acha-aberta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Esse caráter multitarefa do cotidiano tem feito os neurônios entrarem em colapso, daí vem a falta de atenção, de interesse, de estabilidade. Tem sido um caminho penoso.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"O caminho da maioria é fácil; o nosso, penoso. Caminhemos."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;- Pistórius (Demian)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-8549714656891319009?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/8549714656891319009/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=8549714656891319009&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8549714656891319009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8549714656891319009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/10/somos-multitarefa.html' title='Somos multitarefa?'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-3785876747686596819</id><published>2010-09-15T12:18:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-09-15T12:31:27.466-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Two hundred fifty-two months</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Quase duzentos e cinquenta e dois meses de dores, angústias, medos, alegrias, tensão, felicidade e outros sentimentos ambíguos. Quase duzentos e cinquenta e dois meses de auto descobrimento, de realizações, de perdas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Foram livros lidos pela metade, suor derramado à cada atividade letárgica, sensações divididas e momentos compartilhados. Cada fragmento formando o ser que continua a crescer em variadas dimensões.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É... são praticamente duzentos e cinquenta e dois meses.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-3785876747686596819?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/3785876747686596819/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=3785876747686596819&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/3785876747686596819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/3785876747686596819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/09/two-hundred-fifty-two-months.html' title='Two hundred fifty-two months'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-7991237992115940435</id><published>2010-09-01T10:49:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-09-01T11:01:03.185-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleeping awake?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Tenho tido sonhos estranhos. Não acredito em previsões, mas os fatos parecem conspirar contra minhas crenças. Alguns já aconteceram, outros estão acontecendo e tenho certeza que mais acontecerão, o pior é que às vezes parecem mais pesadelos. A realidade parece fundir-se com o agridoce mundo ilusionário. Isto é assustador.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sou real?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.marksheeky.co.uk/"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511943820652234146" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TH5bs4vixaI/AAAAAAAAAl4/0J9bdyjUqT4/s320/theDeathofaMan.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pic by &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.marksheeky.co.uk/"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mark Sheeky&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-7991237992115940435?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/7991237992115940435/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=7991237992115940435&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/7991237992115940435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/7991237992115940435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/09/sleeping-awake.html' title='Sleeping awake?'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TH5bs4vixaI/AAAAAAAAAl4/0J9bdyjUqT4/s72-c/theDeathofaMan.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-7859924176105996673</id><published>2010-08-26T23:56:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-08-27T00:22:55.248-03:00</updated><title type='text'>All I need is death</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/THcvCInQUII/AAAAAAAAAlo/R6LXXc8P4cA/s1600/phoenix2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 258px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 195px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509924382829465730" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/THcvCInQUII/AAAAAAAAAlo/R6LXXc8P4cA/s320/phoenix2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Todos os dias alguém morre.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Esse alguém sou eu.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;São pequenas porções, diminutos pedaços. Mas somente desta maneira a paz é aspirada. É necessário suicidar-se diariamente e o renascer fará, então, parte do cotidiano.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-7859924176105996673?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/7859924176105996673/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=7859924176105996673&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/7859924176105996673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/7859924176105996673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/08/all-i-need-is-death.html' title='All I need is death'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/THcvCInQUII/AAAAAAAAAlo/R6LXXc8P4cA/s72-c/phoenix2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-1306234833583969606</id><published>2010-08-02T14:51:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-08-02T15:03:43.168-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Mecanizando</title><content type='html'>Rotina... cair em suas teias é inevitável, transformando o hábito em algo comum e trivial. Chato.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 176px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500873099578597762" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TFcG8G7iYYI/AAAAAAAAAlc/BvlJnpLTZ44/s200/rotinafail.jpg" /&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;Mudar é sempre necessário mas não é definitivo, sempre haverá rotina. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;♪ Vetiver - You may be blue&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="150" align="middle" height="50"&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="sameDomain"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://muzicons.com/musicon_v_srv_new.swf" width="150" height="50" menu="false" quality="high" align="middle" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="&amp;nomuz=muzicon%20unavailable&amp;site=http://muzicons.com/&amp;icon_pic=36.png&amp;music_file=http://therslweblog.readyhosting.com/Vetiver%20-%20You%20May%20Be%20Blue.mp3&amp;bg_color=656565&amp;type_of_clip=simple_text&amp;text_color=FFFFFF&amp;text_message=Vetiver" wmode="transparent" menu="false" quality="high"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-1306234833583969606?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/1306234833583969606/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=1306234833583969606&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/1306234833583969606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/1306234833583969606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/08/mecanizando.html' title='Mecanizando'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TFcG8G7iYYI/AAAAAAAAAlc/BvlJnpLTZ44/s72-c/rotinafail.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-7027181428373555388</id><published>2010-07-29T21:53:00.006-03:00</published><updated>2010-07-30T09:45:52.394-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Gloomy day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TFIj7BLcUNI/AAAAAAAAAlU/EQ7P2yW0jq4/s1600/grey.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 50px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499497591808479442" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TFIj7BLcUNI/AAAAAAAAAlU/EQ7P2yW0jq4/s200/grey.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Em uma bela e cinzenta manhã no fim de julho você acorda e percebe que tudo não passou de um engano.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Você está em um lugar, o qual não merece estar, o qual não tem competência o suficiente para encarar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Você quer voltar a dormir e fingir que a sua percepção não passou de um sonho. Você quer acreditar que tem capacidade para enfrentar frente a frente, tudo. Porém, você não consegue ter um momento de sono novamente, então, sente que é necessário encarar os monstros do armário e os que estão debaixo da cama.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eles são reais e no momento mais inoportuno para você, eles te tocarão.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ Loreena Mckennitt - La Serenissima&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="150" align="middle" height="50"&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="sameDomain"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://muzicons.com/musicon_v_srv_new.swf" width="150" height="50" menu="false" quality="high" align="middle" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="&amp;nomuz=muzicon%20unavailable&amp;site=http://muzicons.com/&amp;icon_pic=31.png&amp;music_file=http://whatisman.com/audio/Loreena%20McKennitt/Live%20in%20Paris%20and%20Toronto%20(Disc%201)/06%20-%20La%20Serenissima.mp3&amp;bg_color=656565&amp;type_of_clip=simple_text&amp;text_color=FFFFFF&amp;text_message=Serenissima" wmode="transparent" menu="false" quality="high"&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/3776151878859676533-7027181428373555388?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/7027181428373555388/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=7027181428373555388&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/7027181428373555388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/7027181428373555388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/07/gloomy-day.html' title='Gloomy day'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TFIj7BLcUNI/AAAAAAAAAlU/EQ7P2yW0jq4/s72-c/grey.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-2076487057274896522</id><published>2010-06-25T21:02:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-06-25T21:08:48.148-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sem Título XXI</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Caminhar sozinho num lugar ermo é bom&lt;br /&gt;Procurar um sentido &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;na vida, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;nem sempre é confortável&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;E em meio a todos que aparecem &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;você acaba se perguntando &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;o que os faz serem como são? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-2076487057274896522?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/2076487057274896522/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=2076487057274896522&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2076487057274896522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2076487057274896522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/06/sem-titulo-xxi.html' title='Sem Título XXI'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-1391177266985762045</id><published>2010-06-15T21:55:00.008-03:00</published><updated>2010-06-15T22:28:35.495-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Movie'/><title type='text'>Le Scaphandre et Le Papillon</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I decided to stop pitying myself. Other than my eye, two things aren't paralyzed, my imagination and my memory."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Jean-Dominique Bauby&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TBgn1u5w7NI/AAAAAAAAAkE/uYz8naHejNk/s1600/EB1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483176350400441554" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TBgn1u5w7NI/AAAAAAAAAkE/uYz8naHejNk/s320/EB1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TBgntSxM05I/AAAAAAAAAj8/iPsZr1BvbeE/s1600/EB2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483176205409375122" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TBgntSxM05I/AAAAAAAAAj8/iPsZr1BvbeE/s320/EB2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TBgnJ9R-C1I/AAAAAAAAAj0/luALIZ81CwM/s1600/EB3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483175598345816914" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TBgnJ9R-C1I/AAAAAAAAAj0/luALIZ81CwM/s320/EB3.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TBgm_1bUr1I/AAAAAAAAAjs/8lCz7c0QYjc/s1600/EB4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483175424438873938" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TBgm_1bUr1I/AAAAAAAAAjs/8lCz7c0QYjc/s320/EB4.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"A poet once said, 'Only a fool laughs when nothing's funny'."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-1391177266985762045?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/1391177266985762045/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=1391177266985762045&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/1391177266985762045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/1391177266985762045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/06/le-scaphandre-et-le-papillon.html' title='Le Scaphandre et Le Papillon'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TBgn1u5w7NI/AAAAAAAAAkE/uYz8naHejNk/s72-c/EB1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-8331597065985966857</id><published>2010-05-29T19:36:00.007-03:00</published><updated>2010-05-29T19:49:47.052-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Indefinable, yet</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/_marc_/3907265270/"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 194px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476826005103416498" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TAGYO_LPlLI/AAAAAAAAAjU/xXXjTYXwWEs/s200/Para+post.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TAGXJkWvY7I/AAAAAAAAAjM/WSVhI5LZVso/s1600/Para+post.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Nada é definitivo.&lt;br /&gt;Tudo é imperfeito.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;E é aquela constante busca pela perfeição que estraga tudo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-8331597065985966857?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/8331597065985966857/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=8331597065985966857&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8331597065985966857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8331597065985966857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/05/indefinable-yet.html' title='Indefinable, yet'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/TAGYO_LPlLI/AAAAAAAAAjU/xXXjTYXwWEs/s72-c/Para+post.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-2385615036593406747</id><published>2010-05-03T13:07:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-05-03T13:19:36.371-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sem Título XX</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;O receio de não viver coisas nomeadas efêmeras nos faz entrar num impasse: viver para não se arrepender caso não seja realmente passageiro, ou esquecer e lutar pelos sonhos a longo prazo, já que uma coexistência parece não soar muito bem quando o referido é a vida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Daí você não sabe o que é o mundo, se isso tudo não existe e está "drogado", ou até mesmo se vai morrer nos próximos minutos, ou quem sabe os sonhos irão vir a óbito antes mesmo de uma possível concretização.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Putz, devaneios num momento solitário e melancólico de novo não...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 232px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467078137082200322" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S972mZAWwQI/AAAAAAAAAi0/29mtYtZMBpo/s320/DontLookAtMe.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-2385615036593406747?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/2385615036593406747/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=2385615036593406747&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2385615036593406747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2385615036593406747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/05/sem-titulo-xx.html' title='Sem Título XX'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S972mZAWwQI/AAAAAAAAAi0/29mtYtZMBpo/s72-c/DontLookAtMe.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-42413426610765799</id><published>2010-05-02T19:11:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-05-02T19:31:56.611-03:00</updated><title type='text'>A little and sincere smile</title><content type='html'>É estranha a sensação que dá quando o céu resolve chorar.&lt;br /&gt;Suas lágrimas lavam não somente coisas materiais, minha mente também é lavada...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Toda o lixo que contamina e traz doenças vai embora, então, um calafrio de pureza pode ser sentido na medula e um sorriso pode ser visto na face não mais sombria.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466801784954384658" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S937QlGtcRI/AAAAAAAAAis/orrellTlmK4/s320/rainyday.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Between raining days, you can see a smile upon my face."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-42413426610765799?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/42413426610765799/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=42413426610765799&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/42413426610765799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/42413426610765799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/05/little-and-sincere-smile.html' title='A little and sincere smile'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S937QlGtcRI/AAAAAAAAAis/orrellTlmK4/s72-c/rainyday.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-1526645056974351969</id><published>2010-04-25T19:46:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-04-26T09:27:47.909-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Insatisfação</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;As coisas fluem, correm, dormem, acordam. Não ficamos satisfeitos, nunca.&lt;br /&gt;O que há? Quando ocorre algo, de repente, nos sentimos insatisfeitos, se o que acontece é o contrário, o sentimento é o mesmo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 153px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464223469083060386" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S9TSS2AMaKI/AAAAAAAAAik/2vEmxrE8CbA/s200/Inss.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por que o ser humano é tão inexorável?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;O que é necessário para matar seu descontentamento?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Como qualquer coisa, o questionamento nos leva a pensar, a pesquisar, a criar hipóteses, a ter uma opinião formada. Estou tentando formar a minha a respeito disso, ainda não descobri. Eu mesma sou mais um dos insatisfeitos e, procurando por respostas, acabo me perdendo ainda mais nos labirintos da minha mente.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-1526645056974351969?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/1526645056974351969/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=1526645056974351969&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/1526645056974351969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/1526645056974351969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/04/insatisfacao.html' title='Insatisfação'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S9TSS2AMaKI/AAAAAAAAAik/2vEmxrE8CbA/s72-c/Inss.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-2808432276002188259</id><published>2010-04-08T15:17:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-04-08T15:59:44.253-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Quem eu sou?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S74mLar9tKI/AAAAAAAAAic/Ba4APBkCE5E/s1600/ego.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 198px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 221px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457841776003757218" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S74mLar9tKI/AAAAAAAAAic/Ba4APBkCE5E/s200/ego.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Detesto analisar pessoas e me fazer de psicóloga examinando atentamente os movimentos e gestos e, a partir daí, deduzir o que são e por que são.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Gosto de apenas dizer: oi, e aí. E pensar em mim e em outras coisas. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Depois disso, eu me pergunto, quem eu sou e o que sou. Acho importante essa auto análise.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Mas é difícil responder. Não é tão fácil assim dizer quem você é, ter essa opinião formada. Você sabe que é um ser mutável, que aprende a quase todo o momento.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ Soundgarden - Fell on Black Days&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="180" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=18yck5WdvN3Ln9Gbi5ybpRWYy9yYqNmav8Was9mZ0J3bw9SbvNmLzJXZ0NXYtJWZ3lmL3d3d/Sound%2520Garden%2520-%2520Fell%2520On%2520Black%2520Days.MP3.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#5A5A5A;border:#FFFFFF;button:#C6C6C6;player_text:#C6C6C6;playlist_text:#999999;" bgcolor="#5A5A5A" allowscriptaccess="always"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-2808432276002188259?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/2808432276002188259/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=2808432276002188259&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2808432276002188259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2808432276002188259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/04/quem-eu-sou.html' title='Quem eu sou?'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S74mLar9tKI/AAAAAAAAAic/Ba4APBkCE5E/s72-c/ego.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-5790559571643424487</id><published>2010-03-23T11:43:00.006-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-23T15:07:15.989-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Weird happiness</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S6kB5xbXdaI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/1zpNrX026Lg/s1600-h/Charlie+Brown.png"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451890915940988322" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S6kB5xbXdaI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/1zpNrX026Lg/s320/Charlie+Brown.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Bons momentos são estranhos. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Entre uma, ou melhor, várias temporadas de angústia, existem, não necessariamente sempre, alguns momentos e sinais de alegria e felicidade e, no meio destes momentos há também uma pitada de receio e medo. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não entendeu? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estas paisagens são como pesadelos, são lindas por um momento mas depois alguma coisa triste te atinge, quase que imediatamente, e então você já não sente mais alegria, apenas dor e infelicidade.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A vida tem parecido um pesadelo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Imagem via &lt;a href="http://oquetemdentro.wordpress.com/2010/01/06/fazer-e-preciso/"&gt;O que tem dentro&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-5790559571643424487?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/5790559571643424487/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=5790559571643424487&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/5790559571643424487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/5790559571643424487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/03/weird-happiness.html' title='Weird happiness'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S6kB5xbXdaI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/1zpNrX026Lg/s72-c/Charlie+Brown.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-6791856493496664659</id><published>2010-03-20T16:28:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-20T16:32:40.668-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Pedir ou não pedir, isto não é bem uma questão!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Estava a conversar assuntos triviais com a minha avó e, subitamente, lembrei-me de uma conversa antiga com a mesma, sobre "pedir". Certa vez ela me disse: "Se você não pede, vão achar que você não tem a necessidade". Levei em consideração certos fatores, determinadas situações, e cheguei a conclusão que em alguns momentos, o que ela disse é verídico.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Mas, profundamente, eu sei que nem sempre é assim. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;♪ PJ Harvey and John Parish - Black Hearted Love&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="640" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/IWrfLhX964I&amp;amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x2b405b&amp;amp;color2=0x6b8ab6"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/IWrfLhX964I&amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x2b405b&amp;color2=0x6b8ab6" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-6791856493496664659?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/6791856493496664659/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=6791856493496664659&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/6791856493496664659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/6791856493496664659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/03/pedir-ou-nao-pedir-isto-nao-e-bem-uma_20.html' title='Pedir ou não pedir, isto não é bem uma questão!'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-8663855557527727264</id><published>2010-03-16T14:55:00.009-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-16T15:09:35.163-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='desabafo pacato'/><title type='text'>Hurt</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S5_HkiSVJEI/AAAAAAAAAiA/Em5-rtlOsaY/s1600-h/07.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449293504634496066" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S5_HkiSVJEI/AAAAAAAAAiA/Em5-rtlOsaY/s320/07.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Algumas pessoas não tem noção de como certas palavras machucam, não machucar de ofender, mas de não compreender como você realmente se sente.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Quando alguém diz que seu sofrimento não é tão grande assim, ou que você está se lamentando por besteira, é humilhante. É um dos motivos de querer ficar calado. Uma coisa é você perceber sozinho que seu sofrimento é pequeno em relação ao de outras pessoas, mas de qualquer maneira, comparação não é nada legal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Image by &lt;a href="http://www.banksy.co.uk/"&gt;Banksy&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-8663855557527727264?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/8663855557527727264/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=8663855557527727264&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8663855557527727264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8663855557527727264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/03/algumas-pessoas-nao-tem-nocao-de-como.html' title='Hurt'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S5_HkiSVJEI/AAAAAAAAAiA/Em5-rtlOsaY/s72-c/07.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-8879181051397484717</id><published>2010-03-11T13:27:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-03-11T13:39:58.864-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Requiem for a dream</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 180px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447414014107535202" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S5kaLyddR2I/AAAAAAAAAhY/Jr_SO6yfsLQ/s320/requiemmm.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 180px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447414224833290930" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S5kaYDeZIrI/AAAAAAAAAhg/JrxDfDCtDnk/s320/requiemm.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447414548951107234" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S5kaq66GhqI/AAAAAAAAAho/tcsWEYskeVs/s320/Ellen.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 174px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447414929970358882" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S5kbBGUK6mI/AAAAAAAAAhw/tPcVlLw1n1Y/s320/requiemforadream.png" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Be excited, be, be excited!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-8879181051397484717?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/8879181051397484717/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=8879181051397484717&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8879181051397484717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8879181051397484717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/03/requiem-for-dream.html' title='Requiem for a dream'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S5kaLyddR2I/AAAAAAAAAhY/Jr_SO6yfsLQ/s72-c/requiemmm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-4684074486689794161</id><published>2010-02-25T19:42:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-02-25T20:17:40.962-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sem Título XIX</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"A dor é uma coisa muito esquisita; ficamos tão desamparados diante dela. É como uma janela que simplesmente se abre conforme seu próprio capricho. O aposento fica frio, e nada podemos fazer senão tremer. Mas abre-se menos cada vez, e menos ainda. E um dia nos espantamos porque ela se foi."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;- Nitta Sayuri&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;É sim. E com o tempo, não sei se ela acaba por partir, ou se nos acostumamos a momentos dolorosos, como nos habituamos com qualquer coisa. Só sei que a dor, de repente some, não como num passe de mágica, mas esvai-se. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A minha dor é uma dor que pesa dentro da caixa torácica, por muitas vezes sinto-me sufocada e angustiada, desanimada. O engraçado (ou não), é que ela parece natural, embora eu não saiba afirmar se é algo realmente bom. Bem, de qualquer maneira, é confortante saber que ela vai embora com ventos de alívio e chuvas de melancolia.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ Tool - Sober&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="180" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" allowscriptaccess="always" bgcolor="#5A5A5A" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=0vMHZuV3bz9icm5SZlJnZuwWYvNmbpxWY2lmbyF2Y/045%2520-%2520Tool%2520-%2520Sober%2520%25281993%2529.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#5A5A5A;border:#FFFFFF;button:#C4C4C4;player_text:#C5C5C5;playlist_text:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-4684074486689794161?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/4684074486689794161/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=4684074486689794161&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/4684074486689794161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/4684074486689794161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/02/sem-titulo-xix.html' title='Sem Título XIX'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-626252362953408433</id><published>2010-02-23T19:11:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T19:42:14.456-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Is there any end?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S4RXEOzDTdI/AAAAAAAAAg0/vwHuFz3C_8c/s1600-h/Ouroboros.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 323px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 354px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441569979973717458" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S4RXEOzDTdI/AAAAAAAAAg0/vwHuFz3C_8c/s320/Ouroboros.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;em&gt;"É muito fácil estar à beira de alguma coisa do que ser de fato aquilo."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Sábio Zusak, em seu livro "A Menina Que Roubava Livros". Esta frase situa-se mais ou menos no meio do livro, pelo menos assim eu lembro. Mas, rumando ao sentido da frase... sim, é MUITO fácil. Normalmente estou à beira de algo, nunca atinjo o que deveria atingir. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Esta condição é eterna? Espero que não.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;♪ Travis - Side&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="180" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=18yck5WdvN3Ln9Gbi5ybpRWYy9icm5SZlJnZuMnYpJWZoR3ciFme/Travis%2520-%2520Side.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#484848;border:#FFFFFF;button:#B3B3B3;player_text:#C5C5C5;playlist_text:#999999;" bgcolor="#484848" allowscriptaccess="always"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-626252362953408433?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/626252362953408433/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=626252362953408433&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/626252362953408433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/626252362953408433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/02/e-muito-facil-estar-beira-de-alguma.html' title='Is there any end?'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S4RXEOzDTdI/AAAAAAAAAg0/vwHuFz3C_8c/s72-c/Ouroboros.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-1762439500543866757</id><published>2010-02-13T17:18:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-02-13T18:02:37.699-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Cry, cry, cry</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Deixei minhas lágrimas escorrerem pelo ralo junto com a sujeira do meu corpo. Quis sentir-me livre de pelo menos uma pequena porção do meu fardo. Deixei-as serem encaminhadas por uma corrente que se tornou natural, para tomarem um rumo que desconheço, uma trajetória distante de mim.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Não consigo me livrar delas por completo. Sempre querem sentir o meu rosto, sempre querem que eu faça expressões que são, na maioria das vezes, ridículas. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;Me escondo e não grito.&lt;br /&gt;Faço silêncio. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ Poe - Hello&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="180" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=18yck5WdvN3Ln9Gbi5ybpRWYy9CdhN2Lt92YucmbpR3cvhmZhVGbuVGczFmL3d3d/Poe%2520-%2520Hello%2520%2528the%2520good%2520version%2529.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#363636;border:#FFFFFF;button:#C5C5C5;player_text:#C5C5C5;playlist_text:#999999;" bgcolor="#363636" allowscriptaccess="always"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-1762439500543866757?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/1762439500543866757/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=1762439500543866757&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/1762439500543866757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/1762439500543866757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/02/cry-cry-cry.html' title='Cry, cry, cry'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-2376207447762880348</id><published>2010-02-09T11:18:00.013-03:00</published><updated>2011-07-31T20:40:27.479-03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sarah Polley'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Secret Life of Words'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Movie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tim Robbins'/><title type='text'>There's a secret and special life in silence and words.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;There is so little deep down.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Millions of millions of tons of water, rocks and gas.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Affection.&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Blood.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;There are very few things...&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Silence and words.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436254018167176386" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S3F0Oh2k_MI/AAAAAAAAAfs/JjS4LOXKAJc/s320/SLOW4.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 206px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436254238268177058" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S3F0bVyvuqI/AAAAAAAAAgU/LZPZemiKSJI/s320/SLOW5.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 212px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436254783977026450" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S3F07Gt385I/AAAAAAAAAgc/R7QSjLtD_9g/s320/SLOW.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436255223894532370" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S3F1UtiYYRI/AAAAAAAAAgk/I02UqfMMTdk/s320/SLOW3.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 214px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I'll learn how to swim. I swear."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-2376207447762880348?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/2376207447762880348/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=2376207447762880348&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2376207447762880348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2376207447762880348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/02/theres-secret-and-special-life-in.html' title='There&apos;s a secret and special life in silence and words.'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S3F0Oh2k_MI/AAAAAAAAAfs/JjS4LOXKAJc/s72-c/SLOW4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-5957184827363550847</id><published>2010-02-04T10:03:00.006-03:00</published><updated>2010-02-04T10:44:24.757-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Às vezes é bom não ser tão analítico</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Observar minuciosamente as coisas faz com que percam o encanto, o prazer e a magia que há. Existem certos momentos em que observamos cada pequeno passo dado, cada movimento, cada inspiração de um modo frio, imaginando como isso nos afeta, o que tudo isso significa.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É bom viver algumas coisas sem procurar o sentido mais profundo.&lt;br /&gt;Não estou tentando entender nada no momento. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 243px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434383009600987314" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S2rOjfyvYLI/AAAAAAAAAfU/XbVnsvNf4HA/s320/Big+Toe.gif" /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;♪ The Arcade Fire - Haiti&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="180" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=0vMHZuV3bz9yZvxmYu8WakFmcvInZuUWZyZmLn9Gbi52buFWb/the%2520arcade%2520fire%2520-%2520haiti.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#484848;border:#FFFFFF;button:#B3B3B3;player_text:#C5C5C5;playlist_text:#999999;" bgcolor="#484848" allowscriptaccess="always"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-5957184827363550847?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/5957184827363550847/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=5957184827363550847&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/5957184827363550847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/5957184827363550847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/02/as-vezes-e-bom-nao-ser-tao-analitico.html' title='Às vezes é bom não ser tão analítico'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S2rOjfyvYLI/AAAAAAAAAfU/XbVnsvNf4HA/s72-c/Big+Toe.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-5352877172305170321</id><published>2010-01-27T18:07:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-01-27T18:35:59.373-03:00</updated><title type='text'>O que todo mundo sabe</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Li em algum livro, cujo autor não me recordo no momento que "&lt;em&gt;os filhos vêm de vocês, mas não pertencem a vocês&lt;/em&gt;", óbvio que a frase não era exatamente esta, mas o sentido era este aí. Pensei "&lt;em&gt;Puxa, seria ótimo se todos lessem isso e nunca mais esquecessem&lt;/em&gt;"&lt;em&gt;.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;E o problema é justamente a falta de senso dos pais que pensam que seus filhos são troféus que devem ser exibidos com frequência, que devem lutar para que eles (os pais) se sintam orgulhosos. Mas não percebem a crueldade que é essa exibição e, pior, a comparação.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Não costumam observar se os filhos tem qualquer problema emocional, ao invés disso, fuçam seus objetos pessoais, atendem o seu celular, abusam da falta de privacidade, reclamam quando você começa a beber e, no mínimo, ponderam se usa drogas e transa esporadicamente.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Definitivamente, não reconhecem que isso é um martírio para seus filhos. São cegos e a coisa toda está prestes a entrar em colapso. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A conclusão é que, as coisas só podem ser consertadas se apresentarem algum erro. Isto é real. Só com o caos e o terror as coisas podem vir a tomar um curso seguro para as boas mentes.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-5352877172305170321?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/5352877172305170321/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=5352877172305170321&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/5352877172305170321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/5352877172305170321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/01/o-que-todo-mundo-sabe.html' title='O que todo mundo sabe'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-4443963207948460218</id><published>2010-01-23T12:22:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2010-01-23T15:44:23.776-03:00</updated><title type='text'>It hurts to grow up</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Não importa o que eu faça, as coisas não voltarão a ser as mesmas. Isto é um fato e estou tentando me acostumar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Por isso, dou preferência à quietude, deixo na memória os bons momentos e procuro esquecer a dor da separação.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Em seguida, surpreendo-me pensando em como mudei em poucos anos tudo o que sempre acreditei (ou seria melhor dizer: "tudo o que sempre duvidei?").&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Sabe, gostei das mudanças, pelo menos da maior parte delas, apesar de ter vindo algo que afeta mais agora do que já me afetou em algum tempo remoto: a solidão. Mas não é uma solidão banal, é uma vontade estranha de querer ficar sozinha, porque isso vai me fazer bem.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nem sempre é assim...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Normalmente quero conversar e abraçar alguém que apenas me escute e retribua o gesto de afeto. Tão normal quanto essa vontade é a escassez de alguém com essas qualidades.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;É, meus posts viraram clichê...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ Puscifer - Momma Sed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/SwRNLGF2tFw&amp;amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/SwRNLGF2tFw&amp;amp;hl=pt_BR&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-4443963207948460218?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/4443963207948460218/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=4443963207948460218&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/4443963207948460218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/4443963207948460218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/01/it-hurts-to-grow-up_23.html' title='It hurts to grow up'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-3859763886528340017</id><published>2010-01-10T19:43:00.007-03:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T20:09:53.851-03:00</updated><title type='text'>The optmist one</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S0pYNRLsq7I/AAAAAAAAAeg/KN1LLZkN_jE/s1600-h/whitelies08_optimist+dave+mckean.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 322px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 430px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425245686095195058" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S0pYNRLsq7I/AAAAAAAAAeg/KN1LLZkN_jE/s320/whitelies08_optimist+dave+mckean.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Tenho aprendido a não esperar muito das coisas, apenas trilhar o caminho contingente posto diante de mim. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Tenho tentado ser um pouco otimista em relação a qualquer coisa que apareça, já que o pessimismo é monopolicamente monopolizante.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Tenho assistido as cenas incríveis e ao mesmo tempo destrutíveis que são frequentes a cada efêmero momento.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Tenho sido tão traseunte em cada passagem como normalmente sou e, continuarei assim, como sempre fui.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Acho que isso talvez seja um pouco de otimismo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ A Perfect Circle - Passive&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="180" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=2wLzRmb192cvc2bsJmLvlGZhJ3L1hmL15WYltmL3d3d/A%2520Perfect%2520Circle%2520-%2520Passive%2528Constantine%2520BSO%2529.mp3.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#484848;border:#FFFFFF;button:#8F8F8F;player_text:#B3B3B3;playlist_text:#999999;" bgcolor="#484848" allowscriptaccess="always"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-3859763886528340017?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/3859763886528340017/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=3859763886528340017&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/3859763886528340017'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/3859763886528340017'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/01/optmist-one.html' title='The optmist one'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S0pYNRLsq7I/AAAAAAAAAeg/KN1LLZkN_jE/s72-c/whitelies08_optimist+dave+mckean.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-588603374210729768</id><published>2010-01-05T22:25:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2010-01-05T22:43:19.197-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Tentando destruir um mundo</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;"Queria apenas tentar viver aquilo que brotava espontaneamente de mim. Por que isso me era tão difícil?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;em&gt;- Hermann Hesse&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Acho impressionante, e ao mesmo tempo assustador, como Hesse consegue "me entender" tão bem. Ele consegue resumir a vida em frases que contém uma verdade crua e dá um tapa na cara com tanta crueldade que tem um encanto magnífico!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apesar de não conhecer todas as suas obras e, diga-se de passagem, ter desistido da leitura de dois livros escritos por ele, considero-o um mestre sobre as delícias e dores nas descobertas da vida. Ele sabe expor o sofrimento de crescer, o martírio de tentar encontrar o seu &lt;em&gt;eu.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 283px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423433701872637634" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S0PoN58AFsI/AAAAAAAAAeY/7kjhNC73KdA/s320/Surrealism.jpg" /&gt; &lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;"A ave sai do ovo. O ovo é o mundo. Quem quiser nascer precisa destruir um mundo."&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Acredito não precisar dizer de quem é a última frase.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ Lisa Gerrard &amp;amp; Pieter Bourke - Shadow Magnet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="180" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" allowscriptaccess="always" bgcolor="#363636" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=0vMHZuV3bz9yZvxmQvlGZhJ1LyZmLlVmcm5Ca6lWZyJmLkVmbvFmb/Lisa%2520Gerrard%2520et%2520Pieter%2520Bourke%2520-%2520Shadow%2520Magnet.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#363636;border:#FFFFFF;button:#A1A1A1;player_text:#B3B3B3;playlist_text:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-588603374210729768?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/588603374210729768/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=588603374210729768&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/588603374210729768'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/588603374210729768'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2010/01/tentando-destruir-um-mundo.html' title='Tentando destruir um mundo'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/S0PoN58AFsI/AAAAAAAAAeY/7kjhNC73KdA/s72-c/Surrealism.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-5284245079535306823</id><published>2009-12-26T18:07:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-12-26T18:16:12.136-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome new end</title><content type='html'>Existem perspectivas?&lt;br /&gt;Existem, por fim, expectativas?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Desconheço.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas caso existam... me procurem!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Maps&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="180" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" allowscriptaccess="always" bgcolor="#363636" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=0vMHZuV3bz9yZvxmYvlGZhJ3Lt92YukmcvdmckxWa2VWZoRnL3d3d/Yeah%2520Yeah%2520Yeahs%2520-%2520Maps.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#363636;border:#FFFFFF;button:#A1A1A1;player_text:#A1A1A1;playlist_text:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-5284245079535306823?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/5284245079535306823/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=5284245079535306823&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/5284245079535306823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/5284245079535306823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2009/12/welcome-new-end.html' title='Welcome new end'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-3623658854409857136</id><published>2009-12-16T15:21:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2009-12-16T15:46:39.087-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sem Título XVIII</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/SyknYi7hF_I/AAAAAAAAAeQ/GIHZiPZIyl4/s1600-h/dave_mckean.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415903329536514034" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/SyknYi7hF_I/AAAAAAAAAeQ/GIHZiPZIyl4/s320/dave_mckean.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Não ouso perguntar o porquê das coisas serem como são, sei que não terei respostas, não há ninguém que as saiba.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;♪ Enya - Caribbean Blue&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="180" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" allowscriptaccess="always" bgcolor="#363636" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=0vMHZuV3bz9yZvxmYvlGZhJ3Ln9Gbi9WakFmcvInZuUWZyZmLlVXcpNXdt5SYkl2a/Enya%2520-%2520Caribbean%2520Blue.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#363636;border:#FFFFFF;button:#8F8F8F;player_text:#B3B3B3;playlist_text:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-3623658854409857136?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/3623658854409857136/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=3623658854409857136&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/3623658854409857136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/3623658854409857136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2009/12/sem-titulo-xviii.html' title='Sem Título XVIII'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/SyknYi7hF_I/AAAAAAAAAeQ/GIHZiPZIyl4/s72-c/dave_mckean.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-1713845250102296009</id><published>2009-12-12T21:06:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-12-12T21:20:56.887-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Necessidade de consolo</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Certos momentos estão sujeitos a serem meios de delírio, loucura e libertação.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A indústria que fabrica esses momentos precisa se empenhar mais para atender a demanda, existem muitos indivíduos precisando deste produto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se você é fabricante de Momentos de Euforia e Libertação, aumente a produção.&lt;br /&gt;Os clientes precisam.&lt;br /&gt;Sou um deles. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ Smashing Pumpkins - Ava Adore&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="180" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=0vMHZuV3bz9yZvxmYu8WakFmcvQXauUmbhRHblJmL3d3d/Smashing%2520Pumpkins%2520-%2520Ava%2520Adore.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#363636;border:#FFFFFF;button:#8F8F8F;player_text:#B3B3B3;playlist_text:#999999;" bgcolor="#363636" allowscriptaccess="always"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-1713845250102296009?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/1713845250102296009/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=1713845250102296009&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/1713845250102296009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/1713845250102296009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2009/12/necessidade-de-consolo.html' title='Necessidade de consolo'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-959818040360609013</id><published>2009-12-11T09:31:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-12-11T09:51:09.010-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Tired of me, of everything.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ocupada demais me preocupando com meu umbigo. Nada de saber como andam as situações econômica, política e social da cidade, do estado, do país ou do mundo; meu umbigo é mais importante no momento. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Existem muitas pessoas que estão se encarregando do assunto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Não estou me ausentando da sala de reuniões permanentemente, estou apenas me afastando por um curto (ou não) período. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se não me preocupar comigo mesma, quem o fará?&lt;br /&gt;Estou cansada...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ Red Hot Chili Peppers - Snow (Hey Oh)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="180" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=18yck5WdvN3Ln9Gbi5ybpRWYy9yYpNXdt9Sdo5yd15Cdhx2bk52bnJWZ/10%2520-%2520RHCP%2520-%2520Snow%2520%2528Hey%2520Oh%2529.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#363636;border:#FFFFFF;button:#8F8F8F;player_text:#8F8F8F;playlist_text:#999999;" bgcolor="#363636" allowscriptaccess="always"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-959818040360609013?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/959818040360609013/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=959818040360609013&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/959818040360609013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/959818040360609013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2009/12/tired-of-me-of-everything.html' title='Tired of me, of everything.'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-8792082959991302918</id><published>2009-12-08T14:20:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2009-12-08T17:03:19.320-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Empty</title><content type='html'>Sitting on the stair.&lt;br /&gt;Empty street. Some people walking. Stopped cars.&lt;br /&gt;Clouds. No moon, no stars.&lt;br /&gt;Leaves be moving by the wind.&lt;br /&gt;No sounds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412932729494570402" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/Sx6Zo3acBaI/AAAAAAAAAeI/W_ZE5i7H2Tg/s320/Empty+street.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only sound I can hear, is the beat of my heart.&lt;br /&gt;My heart, full of love, full of empty.&lt;br /&gt;All is empty. Ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ Queens of The Stone Age - Mosquito Song&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="180" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" allowscriptaccess="always" bgcolor="#242424" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=0vMHZuV3bz9yZvxmYu8WakFmcvInZuUWZyZmLulWY0NXYuFmdylmb/Queens%2520Of%2520The%2520Stone%2520Age%2520-%2520Mosquito%2520song.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#242424;border:#FFFFFF;button:#A1A1A1;player_text:#D7D7D7;playlist_text:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-8792082959991302918?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/8792082959991302918/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=8792082959991302918&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8792082959991302918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8792082959991302918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2009/12/sit-on-stair.html' title='Empty'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/Sx6Zo3acBaI/AAAAAAAAAeI/W_ZE5i7H2Tg/s72-c/Empty+street.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-8171772107860625359</id><published>2009-12-03T14:51:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2009-12-04T12:53:19.330-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sem Título XVII</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/SxgDN7ifBYI/AAAAAAAAAeA/x6atgExSbYA/s1600-h/Demian.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 313px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411078490141164930" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/SxgDN7ifBYI/AAAAAAAAAeA/x6atgExSbYA/s320/Demian.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"As palavras engenhosas não têm valor nenhum; só conseguem afastar-nos de nós mesmos. E afastar-se de si mesmo é um pecado. É preciso que saiba encerrar-se em si mesmo, como a tartaruga."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ Eddie Vedder - Long Nights&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" bgcolor="#000000"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;embed height="94" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" width="328" src="http://www.esnips.com//escentral/images/widgets/flash/esnips_player.swf" quality="high" bgcolor="#000" flashvars="theTheme=blue&amp;amp;autoPlay=no&amp;amp;theFile=http://www.esnips.com//nsdoc/9cc5aeb2-5806-47a2-b4c4-8178fdc17fa1&amp;amp;theName=Eddie Vedder - - 05 - Long Nights&amp;amp;thePlayerURL=http://www.esnips.com//escentral/images/widgets/flash/mp3WidgetPlayer.swf"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;table style="PADDING-LEFT: 2px; FONT-FAMILY: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; COLOR: #ffffff; FONT-SIZE: 10px; FONT-WEIGHT: bold; TEXT-DECORATION: none" cellpadding="2"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a style="COLOR: #ffffff; TEXT-DECORATION: none" href="http://www.esnips.com/CreateWidgetAction.ns?type=0&amp;amp;objectid=9cc5aeb2-5806-47a2-b4c4-8178fdc17fa1"&gt;Get this widget &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="FONT-SIZE: 7px; FONT-WEIGHT: normal"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td align="middle"&gt;&lt;a style="COLOR: #ffffff; TEXT-DECORATION: none" href="http://www.esnips.com/doc/9cc5aeb2-5806-47a2-b4c4-8178fdc17fa1/Eddie-Vedder-----05---Long-Nights/?widget=flash_player_esnips_blue" align="center"&gt;Track details &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="FONT-SIZE: 7px; FONT-WEIGHT: normal"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a style="COLOR: #ff6600; TEXT-DECORATION: none" href="http://www.esnips.com//adserver/?action=visit&amp;amp;cid=player_dna&amp;amp;url=/socialdna" align="center"&gt;eSnips Social DNA &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-8171772107860625359?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/8171772107860625359/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=8171772107860625359&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8171772107860625359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8171772107860625359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2009/12/sem-titulo-xvii.html' title='Sem Título XVII'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/SxgDN7ifBYI/AAAAAAAAAeA/x6atgExSbYA/s72-c/Demian.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-8927011012880614536</id><published>2009-11-22T19:30:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2010-08-22T11:51:38.548-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Incertezas</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/Swm9efQP3rI/AAAAAAAAAd4/g3Lo2_FRFpk/s1600/ampulheta2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 306px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407061159118364338" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/Swm9efQP3rI/AAAAAAAAAd4/g3Lo2_FRFpk/s320/ampulheta2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Para falar a verdade, nunca houve muita certeza, apenas o tempo.&lt;br /&gt;Mais 365 dias estão se extinguindo e não há convicção do que está por vir. É uma incógnita cuja equação é complicada demais para ser resolvida em curto prazo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As marteladas estão mais intensas, as dores ainda palpitam no peito e as horas continuam a esvair-se com tremenda rapidez. Petulante achar que vou conseguir. Insensato pensar que não conseguirei.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ Cat Power - Werewolf&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="180" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=0vMHZuV3bz9yZvxmYu8WakFmcvUHaucXduIXY0NXa05WY/Cat%2520Power%2520-%2520Werewolf.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#000000;border:#363636;button:#D6D6D6;player_text:#D6D6D6;playlist_text:#999999;" bgcolor="#000000" allowscriptaccess="always"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-8927011012880614536?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/8927011012880614536/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=8927011012880614536&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8927011012880614536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8927011012880614536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2009/11/incertezas.html' title='Incertezas'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/Swm9efQP3rI/AAAAAAAAAd4/g3Lo2_FRFpk/s72-c/ampulheta2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-8863012081408433734</id><published>2009-11-22T12:46:00.006-03:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T13:19:06.857-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes I feel like Travis Bickle</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/SwljFSLKhqI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/rjo_8A4L0ro/s1600/Travis03.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 206px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406961770064152226" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/SwljFSLKhqI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/rjo_8A4L0ro/s320/Travis03.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 256px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406962039434025042" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/SwljU9p8mFI/AAAAAAAAAdY/SoeucIrxxic/s320/Travis05.jpg" /&gt; &lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 224px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406963084858502706" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/SwlkR0KkLjI/AAAAAAAAAdw/GLgC8FZfjZU/s320/Travis02.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 284px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406962526713395794" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/SwljxU6ZulI/AAAAAAAAAdo/rEnhOq0NJr0/s320/Travis.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span &gt;&lt;em&gt;"You talkin' to me? You talkin' to me? You talkin' to me? Then who the hell else are you talkin' to? You talkin' to me? Well I'm the only one here. Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-8863012081408433734?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/8863012081408433734/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=8863012081408433734&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8863012081408433734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8863012081408433734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2009/11/sometimes-i-feel-like-travis-bickle.html' title='Sometimes I feel like Travis Bickle'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/SwljFSLKhqI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/rjo_8A4L0ro/s72-c/Travis03.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-8539920182020764110</id><published>2009-11-13T09:52:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-11-13T10:42:00.069-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Má educação</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Tenho me preocupado tanto com metas não feitas e metas não alcançadas, que esqueci de agradecer a algumas pessoas o quanto elas são importantes para mim e, apesar de não ter a coragem para dizer que as amo, gostaria pelo menos de agradecer. Sei que não vão entender, mas é que só agora (!!!) percebi que apesar de estarem relativamente longe, emocionalmente falando, elas tentam me ajudar, mesmo que com medo de tentar errado, ou de uma forma estranha para mim...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sei lá, só quero que saibam disso.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Bem, acho que vou criar coragem para dizer isso cara-a-cara e dar um abraço bem apertado. Eles merecem! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ Smashing Pumpkins - Mayonaise&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" allowScriptAccess="always" width="180" height="23" bgcolor="#000066" id="radioblog_player_-1" FlashVars="id=-1&amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=18yck5WdvN3Ln9Gbi5ybpRWYy9icm5SZlJnZuYDMwIjbpxWdv1mbhVmalBHd/SMASHING%2520PUMPKINS%2520-%2520Mayonnaise.rbs&amp;colors=body:#000066;border:#FFFFFF;button:#FFFFCC;player_text:#FFFFCC;playlist_text:#999999;" &gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-8539920182020764110?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/8539920182020764110/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=8539920182020764110&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8539920182020764110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8539920182020764110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2009/11/ma-educacao.html' title='Má educação'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-927301194129861466</id><published>2009-10-28T15:14:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2009-10-28T15:14:32.176-03:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm a puzzle</title><content type='html'>Decrifra-me.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ Enya - Only Time&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" allowScriptAccess="always" width="180" height="23" bgcolor="#000066" id="radioblog_player_-1" FlashVars="id=-1&amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=2wLzRmb192cvc2bsJmLvlGZhJ3L1hmLhJHd4VmLjdWb/Enya-%2520Only%2520Time.rbs&amp;colors=body:#000066;border:#FFFFFF;button:#FFFFCC;player_text:#FFFFCC;playlist_text:#999999;" &gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-927301194129861466?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/927301194129861466/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=927301194129861466&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/927301194129861466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/927301194129861466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2009/10/im-puzzle_28.html' title='I&apos;m a puzzle'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-4484790564895143131</id><published>2009-10-14T11:56:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2009-10-14T11:56:25.567-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Who am I to you?</title><content type='html'>Dias vazios...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sei, lamentar não é uma ferramenta muito boa, mas e daí?&lt;br /&gt;Sinto-me uma estrangeira, tudo não é mais familiar, tão pouco acolhedor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Voltei a ler Sidarta. Acho que sua mensagem pode entrar de uma maneira ainda mais profunda que a primeira vez que li, tenho essa sensação. Talvez mande para longe a sensação de que nunca vou ficar bem, que nunca vou conseguir terminar as coisas que começo...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu acredito que, sempre há um recomeço, para o que quer que seja.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Tell me everything is gonna be fine. Maybe I'll believe it."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ Archie Bronson Outfit - Dart For My Sweet Heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/JtzvS2X7C1w&amp;amp;hl=pt-br&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0x3a3a3a&amp;amp;color2=0x999999"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/JtzvS2X7C1w&amp;hl=pt-br&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0x3a3a3a&amp;color2=0x999999" 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/3776151878859676533-4484790564895143131?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/4484790564895143131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/4484790564895143131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2009/10/who-am-i-to-you_14.html' title='Who am I to you?'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-9076226038502000533</id><published>2009-09-21T20:32:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T18:22:33.026-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sem Título XVI</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Cá está ela mais uma vez, após um breve hiato.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Como é estar e não estar? Como é ser e, simultaneamente, não ser? As suas perspectivas foram levadas para algum lugar, talvez estejam sob sua cama ou em outro país, quem sabe...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ela ainda não se encontrou. Ainda &lt;a href="http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2008/06/idias-vagas_26.html"&gt;olha seu reflexo no espelho e pergunta-se quem é&lt;/a&gt;. A sensação de estar sobre a tênue linha que separa a (in)sanidade paira sob seus pensamentos. A vontade de sair vomitando por aí é grande, mas não o bastante.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Às vezes, ela se pergunta se algum dia isso terá um fim, e o que será esse fim. O desejo de largar tudo e começar do zero é enorme, talvez não tanto...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Percebe?&lt;br /&gt;A insegurança e a fraqueza monopolizam os outros sentidos, as outras impressões.&lt;br /&gt;Talvez ela pense demais.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;É uma contradição, uma força que a faz ir ao encontro do inverso. Ela gosta de tentar desvendar alguns mistérios, mas sabe que alguns destes nunca serão resolvidos e há algo de delicioso em tudo isso.&lt;/div&gt;Talvez ela só queira compartilhar esse cotidiário com pessoas que pensem igual.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-9076226038502000533?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/9076226038502000533/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=9076226038502000533&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/9076226038502000533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/9076226038502000533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2009/09/sem-titulo-xvi.html' title='Sem Título XVI'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-5532192769211687356</id><published>2009-07-02T13:19:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T13:28:21.266-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sem Título XV</title><content type='html'>E quando penso em me ausentar,&lt;br /&gt;Adeus dar&lt;br /&gt;Aparece algo que me impede&lt;br /&gt;Pelo menos... momentaneamente.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353898912379444834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 208px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/SkzesdO6HmI/AAAAAAAAAdI/lAUt4Bd7guA/s320/DSC00053.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"&lt;em&gt;Ela quer ir, ela quer ficar."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-5532192769211687356?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/5532192769211687356/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=5532192769211687356&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/5532192769211687356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/5532192769211687356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2009/07/sem-titulo-xv.html' title='Sem Título XV'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/SkzesdO6HmI/AAAAAAAAAdI/lAUt4Bd7guA/s72-c/DSC00053.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-7338803129538681357</id><published>2009-06-23T19:17:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T19:33:42.295-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Ao acaso</title><content type='html'>Não dá para acreditar em acaso.&lt;br /&gt;Tudo o que encontramos, tudo o que esbarramos, tem um quê de vontade própria.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Quando alguém deseja muito alguma coisa, ela acaba por encontrar... é como se fosse uma atração magnética, um atrai o outro, de acordo com a necessidade e o desejo de querer algo para para si mesmo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Se há pensamentos positivos, coisas positivas virão. Agora se houver apenas pensamentos negativos, sai de baixo! Você pode ser levado ao abismo e toda a negatividade te empurra para que caia mesmo.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Cansei de pensar nos meios, e de estar com ansiedade. A força de vontade leva longe e é esse trem que quero pegar.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ Korn - Hollow Life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" width="180" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" bgcolor="#000066" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=0vMHZuV3bz9yZvxmYu8WakFmcv02bj5ichR3crN2bylHdyRmL3d3d/Korn%2520-%2520Hollow%2520Life.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#000066;border:#FFFFCC;button:#FFFFCC;player_text:#FFFFCC;playlist_text:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-7338803129538681357?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/7338803129538681357/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=7338803129538681357&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/7338803129538681357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/7338803129538681357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2009/06/ao-acaso.html' title='Ao acaso'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-5256119924349584203</id><published>2009-05-26T21:45:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2009-05-26T21:56:37.309-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Adeus quinto mês</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/ShyPQt50bCI/AAAAAAAAAco/HjqthWpQ5RM/s1600-h/Landscape13.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340300775517350946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/ShyPQt50bCI/AAAAAAAAAco/HjqthWpQ5RM/s200/Landscape13.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Enquanto mais 31 dias deste ano se vão, cá estou eu.&lt;br /&gt;E eu, continuarei a ser. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340301053155368946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/ShyPg4L4X_I/AAAAAAAAAcw/Rrd8mxZf7TA/s320/Landscape15.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-5256119924349584203?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/5256119924349584203/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=5256119924349584203&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/5256119924349584203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/5256119924349584203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2009/05/adeus-quinto-mes.html' title='Adeus quinto mês'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/ShyPQt50bCI/AAAAAAAAAco/HjqthWpQ5RM/s72-c/Landscape13.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-1847699944650661545</id><published>2009-05-23T20:21:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-05-23T20:29:44.048-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Seguindo em frente</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;E quando penso em desistir de certas coisas, penso melhor e vejo que a desistência não é o melhor caminho. Iria me sentir fraca, impotente, covarde e idiota. Não quero me arrepender de coisas não feitas, pelo contrário, quero fazer e se me arrepender, pelo menos vai ser algo que fiz e não que deixei de fazer. Não há nada pior do que lamentar pelas coisas não feitas, pelas coisas deixadas para trás por fraqueza, vergonha, falsa moralidade, preconceito, e principalmente pela boca dos outros.&lt;br /&gt;Acho que muita gente não faz certas coisas pelo tamanho da língua dos vizinhos ou conhecidos. Ligue o “fuck off” e seja feliz :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tenho tentando (não posso dizer que tenho feito, pois seria uma tremenda mentira) não me importar com a opinião de segundos, terceiros, quartos e quem dirá quintos. Só quero ser feliz ao meu modo e esquecer a existência de alguns, abrir ainda mais a minha cabeça e colocar boas sementes dentro dela. Quero uma boa clorofila delas, vai ser o meu alimento diário.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vambora!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ The Smiths - This Charming Man&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" width="180" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" bgcolor="#000066" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=2wLzRmb192cvMjLn9Gbi5ybpRWYy9SMl1WYq9icm5SZlJnZuETZtFma/The%2520Smiths%2520-%2520This%2520Charming%2520Man.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#000066;border:#FFFFCC;button:#FFFFCC;player_text:#FFFFCC;playlist_text:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-1847699944650661545?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/1847699944650661545/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=1847699944650661545&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/1847699944650661545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/1847699944650661545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2009/05/seguindo-em-frente.html' title='Seguindo em frente'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-2508729664188097724</id><published>2009-05-16T09:13:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T09:39:08.193-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Minha nova admissão</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;De repente percebemos coisas antes não percebidas, passamos a enxergar o que não era tão óbvio assim ou às vezes até fosse. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Mudamos muito em um mês, mais ainda em um ano. Perdemos e ganhamos coisas, pessoas, atitudes..., refletimos. É como se o nosso parabrisas fosse lavado por uma chuva ou por um lavador qualquer, e vemos e sentimos e respiramos e abraçamos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Cosias velhas, renovadas, contraídas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Diferente a forma nova de se encarar os fatos, mas como disse, se é novo, então é natural ser distinto.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isso faz-me sentir bem :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Lendo mais uma vez Eu Sou o Mensageiro, agora posso ler quando quiser.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ Foo Fighters - Best Of You&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" width="180" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=18yck5WdvN3Ln9Gbi5ybpRWYy9icm5SZlJnZucHdmNnZ/foo%2520fighters-03%2520Best%2520of%2520You.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#000066;border:#FFFFCC;button:#FFFFCC;player_text:#FFFFCC;playlist_text:#999999;" bgcolor="#000066" allowscriptaccess="always"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-2508729664188097724?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/2508729664188097724/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=2508729664188097724&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2508729664188097724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2508729664188097724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2009/05/minha-nova-admissao.html' title='Minha nova admissão'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-2749239068884294356</id><published>2009-05-10T18:19:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T18:46:36.751-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sem Título XIV</title><content type='html'>Oi, você não me conhece e eu não te conheço.&lt;br /&gt;Provavelmente você irá pensar coisas, nada conclusivo, devo acrescentar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Estou cansada dessas maluquices do mundo, de problemas exteriores se chocando com os interiores. De todo esse descaso da maioria, da falta de escolha, de ser jogada em um mundo que não me pertence. Ainda sinto falta de quem realmente sabe ouvir, que entende o lado alheio, e mesmo que não concorde, fica calado. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tem dias que nos sentimos cansados não é?&lt;br /&gt;Pois então, este dia é hoje para mim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ Clint Mansell - Xibalba&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" width="180" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" bgcolor="#000066" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=2wLzRmb192cvc2bsJmLvlGZhJ3LyZmLlVmcm5ibvlGblVXc/Xibalba%2520-%2520Clint%2520Mansell%2520%2528The%2520Fountain%2529.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#000066;border:#FFFFFF;button:#FFFFCC;player_text:#FFFFCC;playlist_text:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-2749239068884294356?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/2749239068884294356/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=2749239068884294356&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2749239068884294356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2749239068884294356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2009/05/sem-titulo-xiv.html' title='Sem Título XIV'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-8859722705752613456</id><published>2009-02-04T22:58:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T00:00:21.882-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Quero estender minhas mãos para abraçar o aleatório</title><content type='html'>Palavras não substituirão o que penso.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Elas são sim, um bom remédio, um bom passa-tempo. Uma boa escolha neste momento de solidão. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ousam tentar imitar para o exterior o que há no meu íntimo. Não passam a mensagem com êxito, devo afirmar. Mas, talvez o delicioso disso é saber que elas são apenas ousadas, mesmo que o mais expert nos recônditos caminhos da vida que o espírito humano passa, tente desvendá-las, ele não consegue. Não dá, ele não tem sucesso em sua tentativa fracassada. Bom, ele tentou, tem um certo sabor nisso também.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Você me conhece? Você se conhece? Você nos conhece?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Tem algo de triste nesse fracasso, em não ser compreendido, em ser observado por olhares misteriosos e críticos. Quem se importa? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;O que está sendo visto se importa sim, e mesmo que diga o contrário, lá no fundo há algo que percebe isso, e o faz um ser melancólico.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me dá um tempo?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Que tal me sacudir e me fazer falar todas as merdas possíveis?&lt;br /&gt;Falar sem pensar, sem calcular, sem ser meticuloso.&lt;br /&gt;Sem tentar ser algo que não sou...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As palavras estão fracassando mais uma vez, elas não estão conseguindo falar por mim, elas querem chorar, querem se sentir um pouco seguras.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ Tool - Lateralus&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" width="180" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" bgcolor="#000066" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=0vMHZuV3bz9yZvxmYu8WakFmcvInZuInY1hmL3d3d/Tool%2520-%2520Lateralus.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#000066;border:#FFFFFF;button:#FFFFCC;player_text:#FFFFCC;playlist_text:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Over thinking, over analyzing separates the body from the mind."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-8859722705752613456?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/8859722705752613456/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=8859722705752613456&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8859722705752613456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8859722705752613456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2009/02/quero-estender-minhas-maos-para-abracar.html' title='Quero estender minhas mãos para abraçar o aleatório'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-8907834455192618674</id><published>2009-01-28T14:08:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2009-01-28T14:08:32.591-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sem Título XIII</title><content type='html'>Sempre se quer um pouco mais&lt;br /&gt;Um pouco mais de momentos&lt;br /&gt;Um pouco mais de compreensão&lt;br /&gt;Um pouco mais de sentimentos&lt;br /&gt;De sorrisos, de abraços&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porém, não há tempo.&lt;br /&gt;Ele passa tão rápido que quando percebemos, já está na hora de partir...&lt;br /&gt;Então, seguimos os paradigmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As sensações ficam apenas nas lembranças e na saudade.&lt;br /&gt;Saudade que sempre há uma vontade ou um momento de matar :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ Nine Inch Nails - Closer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" width="180" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" bgcolor="#000066" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=0vMHZuV3bz9yZvxmYu8WakFmcv02bj5ichR3crN2bylHdyRmL3d3d/Nine%2520Inch%2520Nails%2520-%2520Closer.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#000066;border:#FFFFFF;button:#FFFFCC;player_text:#FFFFCC;playlist_text:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-8907834455192618674?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/8907834455192618674/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=8907834455192618674&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8907834455192618674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8907834455192618674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2009/01/sem-titulo-xiii_28.html' title='Sem Título XIII'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-1012858298573343021</id><published>2009-01-25T22:08:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T18:32:04.842-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sem Título XII</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Às vezes eu só quero morrer, outras eu quero viver.&lt;br /&gt;Às vezes estou fraca e cansada, mas cedo ou tarde a força vem, e me recupero.&lt;br /&gt;Batem ondas de tristeza, de alegria, então penso que meu humor é como o mar, imprevisível, passivamente calmo, estranhamente tempestuoso.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Às vezes bate uma vontade de fazer as coisas mais bizarras e loucas que existem.&lt;br /&gt;Às vezes essas vontades ficam, outras vezes se despedem e acenam um “adeus”.&lt;br /&gt;Mas algumas fingem que vão e voltam numa hora desprevenida, numa hora desprotegida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sempre vêm ondas de otimismo, depois de pessimismo, ou vice-versa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uma coisa que aprendi faz um tempo, é que sempre há um recomeço.&lt;br /&gt;Se este recomeço é bom ou mau, quem escolhe é você.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ A Perfect Circle - Weak and Powerless&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="180" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" allowscriptaccess="always" bgcolor="#000066" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=18yck5WdvN3Ln9Gbi5ybpRWYy9iMuIjLn9Gbi5ybpRWYy9icm5SZlJnZukmcvdHZ/A%2520Perfect%2520Circle%2520-%2520Weak%2520and%2520powerless.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#000066;border:#FFFFFF;button:#FFFFCC;player_text:#FFFFCC;playlist_text:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-1012858298573343021?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/1012858298573343021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/1012858298573343021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2009/01/sem-ttulo-xii_25.html' title='Sem Título XII'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-2654376552295730556</id><published>2009-01-23T23:04:00.004-03:00</published><updated>2009-01-23T23:33:52.895-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sem Título XI</title><content type='html'>Sem ninguém encontrar&lt;br /&gt;Sem ninguém a procurar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me jogar no mar, onde a profundidade é desconhecida&lt;br /&gt;Entrar numa rua que nunca entrei&lt;br /&gt;Não quero mapas, muito menos bússolas&lt;br /&gt;Vou me guiar pelas estrelas e pela posição dos grandes astros&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu vou gritar para dentro&lt;br /&gt;Depois eu posso gritar para fora&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vou caminhando, não tenho rumo, não me importo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ Tool - Schism&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" width="180" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" bgcolor="#000066" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=0vMHZuV3bz9iMn9Gbi5ybpRWYy9iTQR1LyZmLlVmcm5ibl5WalRWZ/Tool%2520-%2520Schism.mp3.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#000066;border:#FFFFFF;button:#FFFFCC;player_text:#FFFFCC;playlist_text:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-2654376552295730556?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/2654376552295730556/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=2654376552295730556&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2654376552295730556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2654376552295730556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2009/01/sem-ttulo-xi.html' title='Sem Título XI'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-3567175918248786773</id><published>2009-01-07T19:05:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-01-07T19:13:03.112-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Our suicide</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;O mal das pessoas está na falta de comunicação, no medo de falar algo, no planejamento do que falar, e ainda assim, acabar machucando. Por outro lado, existem aquelas que não estão nem aí, não medem o tamanho da língua e falam, sem pensar nas consequências. Nossa, há tanto a ser falado, tanto a escutar, mas vamos adiando, até o momento mais tardio para poder falar algo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sinto e não sinto ao mesmo tempo, a falta de pessoas compulsivas, impulsivas, não intuitivas.&lt;br /&gt;♦&lt;br /&gt;Estamos num diálogo, e na metade dele um de nós começa a falar mas não consegue terminar, o outro pergunta e ele responde: - Nada não... não era nada importante...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eis aí a falha, era algo de importância até vital para o ouvinte, mas ele não tinha noção, ele mediu as palavras, ele ensaiou. Mas como ele poderia saber que era tão importante para o outro? O outro não expressou nem ao menos uma única faísca do desejo de saber.&lt;br /&gt;Somos assim, frios, calculistas, atores. Estamos num imenso teatro, um imenso teatro... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas, espere! Talvez seja para cobrir os defeitos, para suprir minhas necessidades feitas por meus erros, então eu finjo. Tenho que pensar mais no presente e não no futuro...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Palavras aleatoriamente escolhidas. Pensamentos aleatórios. Chuva. Vento. A paz, onde está?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;♪ Placebo - Protège Moi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" width="180" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=0vMHZuV3bz9yZvxmYu8WakFmcvInZuUWZyZmLuVWarx2b0VGZy9Gb/Placebo%2520-%2520Protege%2520Moi.mp3.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#000000;border:#FFFFFF;button:#FFFFCC;player_text:#FFFFCC;playlist_text:#999999;" bgcolor="#000000" allowscriptaccess="always"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-3567175918248786773?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/3567175918248786773/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=3567175918248786773&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/3567175918248786773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/3567175918248786773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2009/01/our-suicide.html' title='Our suicide'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-8723040796648513098</id><published>2009-01-05T23:40:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T23:50:17.745-03:00</updated><title type='text'>What do you want for yourself?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Tenho assistido várias vezes o filme The Last Samurai, e todas as vezes que o vejo, me emociono do mesmo jeito.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honra. Palavra com significado muito forte e, assim como outras palavras, um tanto confusa para se definir, se entende mais sentindo do que conceituando. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Perfeição. Não um perfeccionismo qualquer, não um vício, mas algo a ser praticado, algo a ser treinado, dando um toque especial.&lt;br /&gt;Disciplina. É o que faz adquirir a perfeição, uma ligada a outra. Aceitando a disciplina, a perfeição vem com o tempo.&lt;br /&gt;Respeito. Algo almejado por muitos, porém, poucos obtém.&lt;br /&gt;Origem. Não deveria ser esquecida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Os orientais são um povo esplêndido, respeitáveis, embora eles tenham esquecido suas origens, ainda há aqueles que prezam pelos antepassados, buscam a perfeição e tem a sua honra. Pessoas admiráveis, hábitos magníficos, lugar extraordinário.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sintetizando o filme, essas palavras (ações) foram as mais importantes e gloriosas que devem ser preservadas na mente. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;♪ Kitaro - Matsuri (não faz parte da trilha sonora, mas eu gosto :])&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/GGtKxbu7vLI&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/GGtKxbu7vLI&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&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-8723040796648513098?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/8723040796648513098/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=8723040796648513098&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8723040796648513098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8723040796648513098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2009/01/what-do-you-want-for-yourself.html' title='What do you want for yourself?'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-6120013155521370351</id><published>2009-01-02T13:57:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2009-01-02T14:03:42.148-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Meu nome é Tédio do Ócio</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Bom, para quem me perguntar, meu réveillon foi um dia normal. Como nos últimos anos, fui obrigada a ir para a casa da minha avó, não tive escolha e passei a maior parte da noite assistindo tv enquanto comia besteiras e escutava os gritos terríveis do meu sobrinho e do meu primo, ambos pequenos, todos suados feito porquinhos, barulhentos e chatos. Havia uns desconhecidos lá, amigos de alguns da família, a família meio chata e eu.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Passei a outra parte da noite no canto mais vazio da casa, liguei o ventilador, deitei no sofá e fiquei apenas pensando, daí é vem gente me procurando, me desejando "Feliz Ano Novo", eu nem tinha percebido o barulho dos fogos de tão distraída que eu tava. Nossa, pensei em tantas coisas que até agora tenho enxaqueca. Foi um misto de sentimentos e emoções e eu nem consegui me situar direito, meio absorta, meio "drogada", só sei que queria estar em casa já que não podia viajar. Ou queria também mais gente que, assim como eu, não curte essas comemorações e nos juntássemos para assistir um bom filme, com pizza, depois som alto e todas aquelas porcarias, mas com pessoas íntimas mesmo, seria massa. Bom, vou sonhar, acho que não existe isso não.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dia seguinte, maresia total, o povo faz o famoso churrasquinho, reunidos e bebendo a cervejinha. Volta tudo novamente, as reclamações, as pressões, a falta de privacidade, a falta de respeito, a ampulheta começando a deixar sua areia cair para o patamar inferior, as conversas jogadas fora, enfim, a vida normal. Tem gente que diz "Ano Novo, vida nova", eu digo "Ano novo, vida velha".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;♪ Sem música hoje, tô com preguiça.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-6120013155521370351?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/6120013155521370351/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=6120013155521370351&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/6120013155521370351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/6120013155521370351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2009/01/meu-nome-tdio-do-cio.html' title='Meu nome é Tédio do Ócio'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-2985087917798351921</id><published>2008-12-26T18:37:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T19:37:23.161-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Changes and choices</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Como sempre, tenho pensado...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Pensado em coisas importantes, e não importantes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tenho ouvido tanta gente, inclusive eu mesma, dizendo estar só, sem ninguém. A questão é, todos se dizem solitários, mas ninguém tem a coragem e a ousadia de chegar para conversar com esses outros solitários. Todo mundo tem algo em comum, que é a solidão e as boas palavras, as boas ações e os bons sentimentos, mas a partir de um "oi", ninguém é mais igual a ninguém, não há mais nada similar, algo para se apegar...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;É muito fácil utilizar as pessoas como instrumentos descartáveis de alegria e depois jogá-las fora. Fácil demais, utilizá-las para nossa conveniência e só.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Ultimamente, tenho me sentido menos solitária, existem certos fatores que, de uma forma ou outra mudaram, pelo menos em parte. Até em minha casa, pequenas porções foram mudadas.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Apesar do barulho, dessa falta de paz diária, ainda assim, as coisas mudaram.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tive uma nova chance para coisas que realmente quero para mim, tenho um prazo para cumpri-las e é necessário chutar o rabo da preguiça e bater na cara da dita solidão. Se eu não aproveitar, não sei o que posso fazer, apenas dizer adeus e partir para um outro rumo, um curso talvez conhecido, talvez desconhecido. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Chega de preocupações, um basta às coisas supérfluas, um murro no tempo e let's go!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ A Perfect Circle - The Outsider&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" width="180" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=0vMHZuV3bz9yZvxmYu8WakFmcvc2bsJmLvlGZhJ3Lo9Gdv02bj5SatF2Zl1WLpFmL3d3d/A%2520Perfect%2520Circle%2520-%2520The%2520Outsider.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#000000;border:#FFFFFF;button:#FFFFCC;player_text:#FFFFCC;playlist_text:#999999;" bgcolor="#000000" allowscriptaccess="always"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-2985087917798351921?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/2985087917798351921/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=2985087917798351921&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2985087917798351921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2985087917798351921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2008/12/changes-and-choices.html' title='Changes and choices'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-3713521129293118368</id><published>2008-12-03T14:21:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T18:43:14.341-03:00</updated><title type='text'>...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Andei pensando no tema da redação da prova que fiz nesse domingo que passou. Falava sobre o ingresso de pessoas a partir da meia idade em universidades e o efeito dessa ação na vida destas pessoas, porém, em contrapartida, pedia para dissertar também sobre a outra parte da população que ainda tem a aposentadoria como meta final da vida. Daí é só esperar as doenças, as idas freqüentes ao médico (especialmente neurologistas, na hora eu lembrei de minha avó) e, não menos esperado, a morte.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Para tipos como eu, foi um bom tema. Algo com que me preocupo, ainda que não seja algo prioritário, mas acho importante.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Como disse, assim que eu li o texto, pensei logo em minha avó, em como ela tem passado, sem muito tempo e ainda assim com todo o tempo do mundo. Livre para ocupar a mente, mas está lá, parada, com problemas. Logo, pensei em minha mãe, e por último, em mim. Quando terminei a prova (que não foi muito boa, por sinal), me senti um lixo. Primeiro, pela prova em si, além de não ter me sentido preparada, a escola ficava num bairro completamente barulhento, e o som que penetrava os ouvidos enquanto tentava me concentrar era o mais conhecido da Bahia: arrocha ou brega, tanto faz.&lt;br /&gt;Somando meu estado deprê da semana passada com essa prova e meus pensamentos de fim de ano, resultou em depressão total até hoje. Nem a chuva e os trovões estão me alegrando. Nem um provável feriado de natal legal que estar por vir está me deixando com um risinho no canto da boca. Ando pelas ruas como se estivesse fora de mim, como que viajando, meio lerda, meio tonta, meio triste. Tudo é dividido, tudo ao meio, nada completo. Ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vou ver se dou um puxão em minha avó para ela sair um pouco e se distrair, ir ao cinema ou a um restaurante, a intenção é tirá-la dessa monotonia que criou uma esfera ao redor dela. Quem sabe não consigo fazer ela melhorar, tentar não dói né.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Achei que não fosse escrever nada por aqui, mas acabei escrevendo algo no fim das contas. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ Enya - Book of Days&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="180" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=2wLzRmb192cvUHaucXduEWdtFWb/Enya%2520-%2520Book%2520of%2520days.mp3.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#000000;border:#FFFFFF;button:#FFFFCC;player_text:#FFFFCC;playlist_text:#999999;" bgcolor="#000000" allowscriptaccess="always"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-3713521129293118368?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/3713521129293118368/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=3713521129293118368&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/3713521129293118368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/3713521129293118368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2008/12/blog-post.html' title='...'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-1196957118663716963</id><published>2008-11-24T22:39:00.003-03:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T22:51:08.722-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sem Título X</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Quero levar um tapa na cara todos os dias, quero ser empurrada ao abismo e tentar sair sozinha, quero ser torturada, mutilada, massacrada. Quero que as coisas que eu realmente me importo e dou atenção sejam detonadas, sejam tiradas de mim bruscamente para que eu possa, com bastante determinação, correr atrás.&lt;br /&gt;Quero uma boa dose de tortura diária, veneno em minha ração todos os dias pela manhã, ser atirada na lama. Prefiro, anseio tudo isso, a ficar presa dentro de mim, como numa gaiola desprovida de uma chave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;O medo de ficar nela até que a velhice e os costumes me deixem sem opção. Há uma guerra fria acontecendo dentro de mim, não há armas, apenas estou congelada. E a tortura parece ter começado, mas as palavras, ainda que machuquem, não estão fazendo muito efeito. Eu preciso de mais dor, mais punição.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"O céu nunca foi o limite, um limite."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mas como diz Coldplay: We live in a beautiful world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ Coldplay - Don't Panic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" width="180" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=18yck5WdvN3Ln9Gbi5ybpRWYy9icm5SZlJnZuMzNlZXZlR3c/Coldplay%2520-%2520Beautiful%2520World.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#000000;border:#FFFFFF;button:#FFFFCC;player_text:#FFFFCC;playlist_text:#999999;" bgcolor="#000000" allowscriptaccess="always"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-1196957118663716963?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/1196957118663716963/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=1196957118663716963&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/1196957118663716963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/1196957118663716963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2008/11/sem-ttulo-x.html' title='Sem Título X'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-8671701595158407627</id><published>2008-11-16T22:04:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2008-11-16T22:27:14.087-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sem Título IX</title><content type='html'>É, hoje é domingo. Típica noite entediante do maldito domingo...&lt;br /&gt;Não passa nada que preste em tvs, não há nada legal para se fazer, não há gente legal para falar besteira em uma hora dessas. Nada. Bom, hoje foi domingo, já vai tarde e o tédio não deixa de se mostrar eminente. Fazer o quê...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu nunca tinha pensado realmente nisso, mas chega o fim de semana e todo mundo está conectado por esses fiozinhos ligados a um computador para, em suma, se comunicar por aqui. Virou rotina também. É uma certa "precisão" pessoal de cada um, algo chato, parece até mais obrigatório do que preciso. Uma bosta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me lembro dos tempos que não sabia qual a serventia da internet e vivia minha vidinha bem longe daqui. Bons tempos, que por sinal, parece que não voltam mais, nunca mais.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por que mandar um mensagem pedindo para entrar no msn ou em um comunicador instantâneo qualquer ao invés de dizer "Estou indo aí" ou então "Vem aqui, por favor"? Não, ninguém mais faz isso. Aliás, só os sortudos que não sabem o que é internet é que fazem isso.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu gosto de sentir a presença da pessoa, de abraçar, dar tapinhas nas costas, isso é muito bom.&lt;br /&gt;Agora não, mal existe assunto, só um sentimento estranho de estar com uma pessoa estranha num lugar estranho, nada mais é familiar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Desprende-se, se solta, não há mais rigidez feito um gelo, agora só há a frieza do gelo.&lt;br /&gt;Vamos voltar a ser como erámos ou não?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ Marilyn Manson - Sweet Dreams&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" width="180" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" bgcolor="#000000" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=2wLzRmb192cvwWajVGa0JXYi12bpRWYy9icm5SZlJnZuwWajVGa0JXYi1WY/Marilyn%2520Manson%2520-%2520Sweet%2520Dreams.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#000000;border:#FFFFFF;button:#FFFFCC;player_text:#FFFFCC;playlist_text:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-8671701595158407627?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/8671701595158407627/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=8671701595158407627&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8671701595158407627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/8671701595158407627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2008/11/sem-ttulo-ix.html' title='Sem Título IX'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-3847941959850521619</id><published>2008-11-04T22:46:00.005-03:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T22:57:24.853-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Wake up</title><content type='html'>É, mais um ano se vai. Estamos em novembro (!!!), e eu, nada!&lt;br /&gt;O ano foi chato, começou mal, continuou mal, e agora, tá paradão. Eu sou uma versão feminina do Ed, tenho 19 anos e nada. De ter planos eu tenho, o problema é que vou dormir pensando em colocá-los em prática na manhã seguinte, mas quando amanhece, eu não quero acordar. Sabe o porquê? A solução desta "equação" é muito simples: durante o sono eu não sinto dor, eu não sofro, eu não fico magoada. Pelo contrário, viajo pelos mais recônditos caminhos do meu imenso cabeção e posso moldar o mundo, fazê-lo melhor para mim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Então, ridículo isso né?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do que adianta ir para um lugar que é imaginado e quando acordo já me vêm tragédias?&lt;br /&gt;Vou lhe responder esta minha pergunta prosposta.&lt;br /&gt;Não adianta NADA, absolutamente, nada!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nada tem me agradado, colocar a cara na rua só por precisão. Ir a festas? Nem pensar! Elas são mais chatas que as reclamações que escuto. Soma-se minha indisposição voluntária com o calor e com as pessoas, resulta em maresia por 24h.&lt;br /&gt;Alguns dias são estranhamente bons. Acho que deve ser por estar acostumada a dias chatos, quando um bom aparece eu estranho...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bom, mais um ano tá indo, eu tô aqui, querendo pôr meus planos em prática, escrevo coisas para me animar já que não tenho quem me anime nesses sentidos e é isso aí. Na verdade é até melhor eu conseguir superar essas coisas sem a ajuda de ninguém, também não vou mendigar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Estou no primeiro degrau, quem sabe em breve eu já esteja no último sem perceber?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ The Gathering - Shortest Day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" width="180" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" bgcolor="#000000" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=18yck5WdvN3Lyc2bsJmLvlGZhJ3LyZmLlVmcm5SZu9GczV2d/The%2520Gathering%2520-%2520Shortest%2520Day.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#000000;border:#FFFFFF;button:#FFFFCC;player_text:#FFFFCC;playlist_text:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-3847941959850521619?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/3847941959850521619/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=3847941959850521619&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/3847941959850521619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/3847941959850521619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2008/11/wake-up.html' title='Wake up'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-2606503885637874866</id><published>2008-10-30T23:38:00.002-03:00</published><updated>2008-10-30T23:42:48.738-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sem Título VIII</title><content type='html'>Sente-se, não há pressa. Sei que o tempo corre com ou sem você, mas dê-me um pouco de atenção.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por que me esqueces?&lt;br /&gt;Sem mim, estaria perdido. Estaria, de fato, vagando por aí como os outros perdidos, executando ações e fazendo confissões a quem não se importa com o que dizes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Para onde fostes?&lt;br /&gt;Eu me importo. É a minha vida também. Por favor, não me deixe para trás como uma lembrança sórdida. Estou viva dentro de você, vejo as imagens que você vê nas paredes e nos chãos. São semblantes diferentes não é?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olhe, não crie amigos mudos imaginários. Por que você não passa por aquela porta e observa o que lhe aguarda? Lembre-se apenas que quando uma porta se fecha, outra é aberta imediatamente, você somente a percebe quando procurar atentamente.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vivendo à toa não é?&lt;br /&gt;Desperte.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ Agua de Annique - Day After Yesterday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/uc9HhVh0D5s&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/uc9HhVh0D5s&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/3776151878859676533-2606503885637874866?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/2606503885637874866/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=2606503885637874866&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2606503885637874866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/2606503885637874866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2008/10/sem-ttulo-viii.html' title='Sem Título VIII'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-3809216417194086108</id><published>2008-10-25T21:40:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2008-10-25T21:40:55.778-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Perto e longe demais</title><content type='html'>Caminhando a vagarosos passos, observando as faces, os olhares de diferentes idades, dissemelhantes fases. Como mudam a cada época, a cada era vivida.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um tipo de olhar que me deixa mais triste e pensativa é o das pessoas que carregam várias experiências consigo, sabem muita coisa da vida. Sim, você sabe de quais pessoas falo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aqueles olhinhos meigos e tristonhos com um estranho e decaído brilho, pertencem às pessoas de cabelos brancos e pele enrugada, andar tão vagaroso quanto o que eu fui andando quando observei; mãos frágeis e coluna atrofiada. Sim, você sabe de quais pessoas falo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paro numa praça próxima e apenas penso, completamente absorta e melancólica, em como estarei naquela idade, se por um acaso a ela alcançar. Perder pessoas para a morte e também para a vida, fazer escolhas que mudem a minha vida para o lado ruim, estar sozinha. E não é uma solidão momentânea, é algo que vai durar até o dia em que meu coração e cérebro abandonarem suas funções, pois não terei mais pessoas com a mesma mentalidade que eu, e por mais que tenha alguma família algum dia, permanecerei só.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Acho que todos temos que experimentar as fases da vida, apesar de termo o livre arbítrio para acabar com ela quando quisermos. É uma questão de querer ou não querer, ficar no meio term equivale a mais sofrimento.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somos enfim, verdadeiros administradores: vivemos aprendendo, errando, sofrendo, acertando... A universidade é a vida, o professor é a vida também.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ Secret Garden - Nocturne&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" width="180" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" bgcolor="#000000" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=2wLzRmb192cvc2bsJ2XvlGZhJ3L1hmLhJHd4VmL5AjNxMXdn5WY/Secret%2520Garden%2520-%2520Nocturne.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#000000;border:#FFFFFF;button:#FFFFCC;player_text:#FFFFCC;playlist_text:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-3809216417194086108?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/3809216417194086108/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=3809216417194086108&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/3809216417194086108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/3809216417194086108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2008/10/perto-e-longe-demais.html' title='Perto e longe demais'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-1530912920970644126</id><published>2008-10-21T23:02:00.000-03:00</published><updated>2008-10-21T23:03:16.372-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Não, não dá para falar o que as pessoas não vão entender</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/SP6IjDS_GsI/AAAAAAAAAZY/5-Tt42w86To/s1600-h/Pic016.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259791550577056450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/SP6IjDS_GsI/AAAAAAAAAZY/5-Tt42w86To/s400/Pic016.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/SP6Hi9dMziI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/LzTlUEwNrho/s1600-h/Pic016.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Apenas o olhos tentam se comunicar. A boca? Ela tenta se mover para emitir sons de desespero, mas seu esforço é em vão. Sem movimentos, sou uma prisioneira.&lt;/em&gt; "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Acho que o título somado à foto e a frase falam tudo!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ Depeche Mode - Enjoy The Silence&lt;/div&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" width="180" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" bgcolor="#000000" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=0vMHZuV3bz9yZvxmYu8WakFmcvInZuUWZyZmLlxGblhXawlnY/Depeche%2520mode%2520-%2520Enjoy%2520the%2520silence.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#000000;border:#FFFFFF;button:#FFFFCC;player_text:#FFFFCC;playlist_text:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-1530912920970644126?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/1530912920970644126/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=1530912920970644126&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/1530912920970644126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/1530912920970644126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2008/10/no-no-d-para-falar-o-que-as-pessoas-no.html' title='Não, não dá para falar o que as pessoas não vão entender'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7CxJdnciDg8/SP6IjDS_GsI/AAAAAAAAAZY/5-Tt42w86To/s72-c/Pic016.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3776151878859676533.post-5531739282483581440</id><published>2008-10-18T01:05:00.001-03:00</published><updated>2008-10-18T01:16:09.565-03:00</updated><title type='text'>Confusion, sadness and depression</title><content type='html'>Já se sentiu como se os assuntos se despedissem de você nos piores momentos?&lt;br /&gt;Pois é, encontro-me nessa &lt;del&gt;fudida&lt;/del&gt; terrível situação.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E do nada me vem as patadas que levei, os coices que me abateram, enfim, as tragédias. Ninguém que lê isto aqui faz a mínima idéia do que eu estou pensando enquanto escrevo. Bem, não é para saber mesmo. Mas, no momento me veio alguns pensamento e me recordo do quanto odeio quando me deixam no vácuo. Sabe quando você está tentando falar com alguém e essa pessoa te deixa falando sozinho? Então...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não gosto que me ignorem, se não querem escutar o que tenho a dizer, é simples: não falar comigo. Se está esperando uma resposta sobre algo muito complicado: também não falar comigo. Costumo fazer desabafos pacatos escrevendo, como faço aqui.&lt;br /&gt;Ultimamente a depressão tem me alcançado e me sinto como Bauby, num escafandro. E esse escafandro está num mar de atitudes, de ações...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As palavras tem sido um certo refúgio algumas vezes. Só isso.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A tristeza parace não conhecer um fim, um limite.&lt;br /&gt;As pessoas, parecem não conhecer um limite, um fim.&lt;br /&gt;A vida parece não conhecer um começo, um recomeço.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;♪ Vashti Bunyan - 17 Pink Sugar Elephants&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="radioblog_player_-1" src="http://stat.radioblogclub.com/radio.blog/skins/mini/player.swf" width="180" height="23" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" bgcolor="#000000" flashvars="id=-1&amp;amp;filepath=http://www.radioblogclub.com/listen2?u=18yck5WdvN3Ln9Gbi5ybpRWYy9icm5SZlJnZuQ3chNWbhVmckF2ZlNnL3d3d/Vashti%2520Bunyan%2520-%252017%2520Pink%2520Sugar%2520Elephants.rbs&amp;amp;colors=body:#000000;border:#FFFFFF;button:#FFFFCC;player_text:#FFFFCC;playlist_text:#999999;"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3776151878859676533-5531739282483581440?l=suicidiodiario.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/feeds/5531739282483581440/comments/default' title='Postar comentários'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3776151878859676533&amp;postID=5531739282483581440&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comentários'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/5531739282483581440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3776151878859676533/posts/default/5531739282483581440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://suicidiodiario.blogspot.com/2008/10/confusion-sadness-and-depression.html' title='Confusion, sadness and depression'/><author><name>Alassë</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03490997685594550823</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K8kXQQf6veY/TkRjIIgBjkI/AAAAAAAAAps/0jeIXqWDKI0/s220/Feelings%2BGone.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
