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I think the love of truth does not appear to what they taught us. They are not always mariposas. They do not always sit down at least. They do not always want to be together. Sometimes the love is something much simpler. It is to choose the same person, even after having met the truth. With their hands, with their hands, with their hands, with their insecurities. With everything that does not appear in the first steps. Because in love it is easy when you only know the beautiful part of someone. It is difficult to keep wanting it when you discover your wounds, when you leave it perfect. When there are days in which you do not know how to understand. And even so, you decide to talk about the place of going. You decide to listen to the place of winning a discussion. You decide to take care of the place of having the reason. Because, perhaps, love someone does not mean to find someone who never hurt you. It means to find someone with whom you want to learn not to do it. And I think there is something even more beautiful. That the person who loves is not someone who fulfills your life. But someone with whom you can share a life that is already yours. Someone who does not take you to freedom. But who makes you feel free to be you. Because in the end, after so many stories, so many promises and so many for always. And the most true love is simply to find someone who, being able to know all your parts, even those you do not know what to do. Decide to stay. And not because you have to do it. But because, among all the people in the world, I still choose you.