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I mean romantice love. That kind of love that gets your willy singing and your jeans steaming. In other words, the love that is just a figment of our imagination, because we'd hate to accept the truth that we were born, will live, and will die alone.
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Just because we die alone doesn't mean we can't feel love for someone. It's not a "figment of our imagination" because we actually feel it, it actually exists within our bodies and mind. I accept I will die, but I don't accept that love doesn't exist.
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