Like your first bicycle, you out grow it. If you’re anything like me, there might be a span of years between your first bike and the next. The next ride approaches, and frozen, you realize that you must’ve have forgotten how to ride- yet, you get back on. You’re wobbly; the propelling of motion tenses your muscles. But again you get used to the motions. Love, is like riding a bicycle. It’s liberating. You fall, you get back up and
you never forget how to do it.
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