written by Leo Tolstoy
this is a heart-breaking story to read.
it came out in 1859, even before his marriage.
i think he understands a lot about marriage.
still, he had a fucked up family himself.
that's why writers write, right?
he just threw his ideals of happy life into the story.
he wrote it with such bitter frankness about love.
the conversations are just like the ones i had with her.
maybe it's very common among all couples whom have arguments.
there are endless misinterpretations between man & woman.
especially the part when the wife went into society.
i felt so moved reading that part.
from the story, i got a conclusion.
the husband is right about never say 'i love you'.
he shouldn't. he was a fool in love which he cannot help.
that's okay.
if you wanna keep a relationship, love is never enough.
love dies every second, every minute, every hour.
that's why we have the long tradition of marriage.
really, it's like a bond of two people. in order to survive from it.
we need to endure, learn, compromise, and accept
but i guess marriage doesn't really work nowadays...
not to even mention relationships... it dies quicker.
so what is happiness?
is happiness real only when shared?
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