going to Memphis was supposed to bring meaning to my life.
I thought I was going home.
I had realized when I was there just how jealous I was of people who found direction in their life. it wasn’t just those in Memphis, but it seemed that everyone I knew had “gone home” and found what they thought was missing in their life.
me?
I was still searching for something that seemed elusive out of my grasp.
I can’t find it it seems.
tripping on stars was put on hold while I searched for meaning.
since I haven’t found it, it’s back to the same old same old.