Every day there was something new.
I woke up in a different city.
On a different continent.
Every day was different from the last.
And I took it all in.
I enjoyed every last minute of it.
But things have changed since then.
I’ve seen all of it.
There’s nothing new for me out there.
So now I sit around and I don’t know if there’s a purpose for me out there.
Because I’ve seen everything.
I’ve done everything.
And there’s nothing left for me to do.
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Categories: flash fiction