Don’t ask me where I’m going, don’t ask me where I am. I don’t know anymore than you.

The truth is, somewhere between our eleventh pit stop at Wal-Mart, and defending my innocence to the receptionist, I realized that it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters, and the only thing that means anything is the meaning we ascribe. And whatever we say, we’re right.

Kind of funny, how we’re all just put here to wonder, not really given any answers other than the ones we choose to make up.

There’s so much we’ll never understand.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s