This is your story. You are allowed to make mistakes, to erase pieces and rewrite them, to fall down and fail and start completely over with a page turn. You are allowed to love the wrong people and learn painful lessons. You are allowed to decide which faith you want to have, or none at all. You are allowed to kiss, to smile, to laugh, to forgive, to hope.
We each have a unique apology language that resonates with our hearts.
I want a city kind of love. The kind of love that never stops moving, that’s alive and pulsing with rhythm and energy.
Disconnect.
What I mean when I say, ‘I love you.’ Is that I cannot imagine a life that exists without your arms interlocked with mine, or my lips kissing a mouth that is not yours.
You’ll always be the one I loved first—the hands that held me, the words that built me, the piece of my heart that can never be replaced.
I thought about how wildly beautiful it is that we were once just strangers, wandering around this earth without the taste of each other’s names on our tongues. How life simply happens, love simply happens. Especially when we’re not looking.
“I don’t know what I would do without it.” — Amy C.
With this form of massage therapy, you aren’t ingesting a bunch of mind-numbing pain relievers just to get through the day. Instead of masking your pain, you are actually reducing, solving, and healing your pain.
Replace ‘I can’t’ with ‘I can.’