Sometimes it’s all uninteresting,
If you came looking for me.
This is not where you’ll find me,
Only pieces of who I used to be.
The real me is out there,
Living some kind of life I hope,
She writes, sometimes, I think,
She writes, sometimes, I hope.
But if you came looking for me,
This is not where you will find me.
Tracy Eric Writes… about your savvy stalking skills and expectations of who I am/who I’m supposed to be.