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The empty bottle of rum I do remember

There is this great method that my teacher taught me so I could improve my memory. She told me to go over every little thing I did on my day just before I went to sleep. To live it all again in my mind right before falling sleep. And it was nice, and it worked out just fine.

That's were I began to notice all the things I haven't noticed before.

I noticed how naive and inocent I was when I first fell deeply in love. The bloody knuckle days I lived through, asking him not to leave me, begging him to stay, crying night after night asking someone I'm not quite sure to believe in, to bring him back to me.

I noticed how painful that was and how much did it changed me. How I started to put myself on incredible danger just to feel alive again. Being drunk at parties where nobody knew me. Flirting, a lot. Being scared of have flirtered a lot. Being scared of how the guy touches me and forces himself on me. Taking walks at 2:00 am. Taking rides in motorbikes with guys I don't know at all, guys who were wasted as hell - but girl how would you know if you were wasted as well?

I noticed how I gave up to love. Any form of it. I ran from wedding proposals and the "Please, let's start our life together" phrase.

I ran from every single one. The one that asked me to marry him in front of my friends. The one that I smoked with, naked on a balcony, at 4:00 am. The one that went mad at me because their friends were also flirting with me. The one that didn't smoke so asked me not to light the cigarrette - otherwise he wouldn't kiss me -. The one that saved me from a really annoying guy, then asked for my number and left. He still texts me every day. The one that said "You are the woman of my life" after I made him cum. The one that burned me with a cigarrette. The one that spanked me so hard I left the apartment with bruises. I ran from every single one. The one that didn't love me, the one that loved me too much, the ones that wanted to make me believe they were in love with me, the ones that tried so hard to hide the fact that they were actually in love with me. The ones with girlfriends, wifes, or perfect homegirls waiting for them at home, even when they were milles apart. I ran from fancy dinners, crazy parties, expensive trips, and everything that seemed too perfect to be true.

I ran away from really bad sex, nasty sex, terrible sex, painful sex. But also really good sex, good kisses, perfect ways to be caressed. I ran from loving and tender sex, the one that makes you want to stay and not to run away.

And I left even when I should have stayed.

I should have stayed.

I am sorry.

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