Sometimes I think if you saw me when I look from the outside you would see the same love that I feel? I believe?
You know love is illogical, it does not have a tangible explanation. Many people are accustomed to have someone, to feel warmth or a slight emotional warmth, a feeling of mild tranquility.
Something that I could never get used. Becoming is not love.
The love you feel if you take it all or do not take anything.
And if you do go well it is almost a love but not love.
You can pretend to love but you can not convince him love.
There is no magic that is not the heart to do so arise if there is.
E 'useless watering concrete, set fire to a fuse hoping for a star.
You can confuse it with gratitude, with tenderness, with friendship, with the complicity. But it quenches thirst and does not shine.
Here I want to fight for something that is worth living and dying for the same exact reason, illogical equation, the variable which unequivocally determines the difference between things and the important things.
This happens in life with great difficulty, but if it does not happen more I do not want to substitute.
And if I can not ever just shut up because I always think that my words can reach you and upset that I do not believe in fate. The most beautiful thoughts we split inside, are ecstasy and torment.
What you will find there is not even looking for it endlessly while the infinite is there, before my eyes, you can not not see
