At the current time of writing, I don’t really know whether I want to talk about literally looking back, like looking over your shoulder, or looking back at a reality that was. It was one of those ideas that came to you after an extremely long period of stagnation. Maybe I was led to thinking of the latter through the forme- I really have no idea.
Anyways. Looking back.
Looking back. There is a sense of prior abandonment, of having left what is being looked back. You do not look back to see something in front of you. It’s just not possible. You look back at what is behind you.
Looking back. What’s the point of even looking back? After all, you can’t walk backwards all the time. You’ll fall over sooner or later. Is there even a point? As I write this, I kind of understand you a little better with every word I write.
Looking back. Why do you look back? Perhaps you look back because you left something behind. You look back to see if it has remained where it was. You look back to, perhaps, get it back or something. You look at where you possibly lost the thing in the hopes of finding it. There is value in what was left behind for the one looking.
I asked why you won’t look back at me. I still ask the same question.
Because you never did. Because you never stopped. Because you kept moving forward.
Look back. Was i(t all) worth it?
Do I even want to know?