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Instead of worrying about the past some kind of muscle memory provides me with the euphoria of some kid in love for the first time. I'm glad that I can't seem to learn not to touch the hot stove. I wouldn't want to have missed anything.
Sometimes when your heart has been broken I suppose that it's normal to question what you've been through. Now, here I am. I have loved.
You are single. You have a home. You have a pulse. Get back on that pony, dude. You are a catch!
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