you always seem to be looking back

strangest things happen--i was looking through some old stuff and this comes up--i swear to god never before saw it on my computer--possibly written by me after seeing that tolstoy movie--it's a little hasty and drastic in its conclusions--but i thought i should put it up here--in a way of seeing one's own development:

Friday, September 03, 2010 10:31:14 PM

Sometimes the best thing to do is to let go. Love in itself is tiring and restless. It requires working too much for a cause that is immune to any work. For that love is like paddling in mud. You can try all you want, and the only movement you will make will be sinking deeper.

Still, every story is a story of love.

“I know everything I know,” writes Tolstoy, “because I love.” He writes beautifully. But just like the love he so believes in, his words are vague and elusive. For example, what does he know? How does he know it? What does he love, and more importantly, (since we all love something) how does he love? Was it not him who left his wife on an impulse and ran from her on a voyage that brought him his death?

You should never listen to great writers. They are just as indescribable and fickle as love itself.

strange happenings.

edit-- yes i do just remember--it was supposed to be a story at some point. but i guess i forgot all about it. it was supposed to be a male leading character too. that's all i remember.