Do all lovers feel like they're dying?

I am into movies. It's one of my 'things', I suppose. I enjoy good cinematography and
I like stories. So it only makes sense. Something I enjoy almost as much as movies themselves
is looking movies I haven't seen up on the internet and reading reviews for them. I think
that sometimes, reviews are even better than movies themselves, because people's interpretations
can differ a lot. A movie that doesn't seem very deep to you can hold endless depth and sorrow
for someone else.

there's a movie called Portrait of a Lady on Fire. I haven't seen it, but people say it's good.
I'd like to see it someday, but I'm kind of waiting for the right time and place. Maybe it'll
get a cinema rerelease. I prefer watching movies in the cinema. There's something comforting
about it that watching a movie at home just lacks. Anyhow, Portrait of a Lady on Fire. There's
a quote from this movie that many people use in their reviews (which I have, of course, dutifully
read). 'Do all lovers feel like they're inventing something?' is said, I assume, by one of the
characters, I assume, to another one. Or perhaps written down. I assume. It's a pretty quote,
and I understand why people like it so much.

Do all lovers feel like they're inventing something? When you fall in love, when you crush on
someone, do you also feel like what you're experiencing has never been experienced before, by
anyone? Surely, nobody else has ever felt it to this depth. Have they? If so, how are they
coping? How do they deal with the pain, the pounding heart, the fear? How do you stop yourself
from trying to change your entire personality just to appease some person without even knowing
what they like? Do all lovers feel like they're dying? Am I dying? Why do I feel like I'm dying?

I've never been more conflicted. I don't know what's wrong with me. It's never happened to me
like this, to this extent. If this is love, that means I've never been in love until now. If
this is something else, I am simultaneously relieved and terrified. Relieved because at least
love isn't this bad, and terrified because it means something else, something even more obscure,
is wrong with me. And that's not a nice thought either.