The memories attacked me when i was vulnerable and the worst was not being able to defend myself.
I felt curious and was more than in love with my past. It's terrifying the sensation that reaches my chest when saying those two words my past, the past that was snatched from my hands like a broad of Hermes.
I keep waiting for the day i can evoke my past without distressed eyes, the day in which i impose my events so i can continue with the present, the day when satisfaction wins and replaces that nostalgia that makes the living hard.
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