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Happy

crazy, we think we are not, as we spend more time feeling that love, we end up trying to convince ourselves that perhaps this fall does not exist for us, for that love. Perhaps that emptiness into which we throw ourselves is not serious, that we are the exception that confirms the rule. We do not stop to think that perhaps what we feel is not love. It is a desperate search for a feeling similar to love, an unrestrained search for passion, for intensity. We simply want to find that kind of love in which, after searching for it, in the end we end up losing ourselves.

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