tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3048691048259999651.post23981525346961622..comments2023-09-22T07:12:25.550-04:00Comments on The way I am --- number 3: My kind of poetryzorghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02407277684056611618noreply@blogger.comBlogger6125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3048691048259999651.post-79937050898874736842007-11-29T13:07:00.000-05:002007-11-29T13:07:00.000-05:00I never wanted to be noticed. People never felt s...I never wanted to be noticed. People never felt sorry for me. I usually got one of two lectures: either "Get tough" or "You have to be a friend to have friends." Right. I didn't know how to be a friend, so I got tough--and became something of a bully myself.Granny Katehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01447538780411617539noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3048691048259999651.post-40421162432617912792007-11-29T11:21:00.000-05:002007-11-29T11:21:00.000-05:00When I was young(er) I was made fun all the time a...When I was young(er) I was made fun all the time and didn't know how to shrug it off. I would go hide somewhere and hoped someone would see me and feel sorry for me, than after no one ever saw me due to to good at hiding I would make fun of my self for being such baby, get up and leave. I still make fun of myself some times for not having enough endurance(bad breathing when I run)I would get bad head aches just from running.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3048691048259999651.post-43843652297686090432007-11-29T08:09:00.000-05:002007-11-29T08:09:00.000-05:00I can relate to this poem. I was a bit bullied as...I can relate to this poem. I was a bit bullied as a preteen, and as a result, I loved spending time all by myself. I especially loved climbing way up the tallest trees where no gravel could reach me and I could feel free.<BR/><BR/>I didn't know "the One who could give you life" then.Granny Katehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01447538780411617539noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3048691048259999651.post-32409936408462730212007-11-28T17:26:00.000-05:002007-11-28T17:26:00.000-05:00No I mean.... she jumped on the keyboard and thoug...No I mean.... she jumped on the keyboard and thought I liked having me face brushed. right at the piont of which I was reading your poem.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3048691048259999651.post-80395968868575190932007-11-28T15:09:00.000-05:002007-11-28T15:09:00.000-05:00you know, you could put missy down...you know, you could put missy down...Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3048691048259999651.post-76527026595681224732007-11-28T13:26:00.000-05:002007-11-28T13:26:00.000-05:00even if this no timing it stil look good and sound...even if this no timing it stil look good and sounded good. and even if you don't think so its a lot better than anything my brain could think up. I couldn't read part of it, missy was hitting me in the face with her tail as if I liked it.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com