“ I used to be mad at you. A little on the hurt side too, but I’m not who I was. I found my way around forgiving you some time ago, but I never got to tell you so. I found us in a photograph. I saw me and I had to laugh. You know, I’m not who I was. You were there, you were right there above me and I wonder if you ever loved me just for who I was. When the pain came back again like a bitter friend, it was all that I could do to keep myself from blaming you. I reckon it’s a funny thing. I figured out I can sing. Now I’m not who I was. I write about love and such. Maybe because I want it so much.
— (via eletheowl)
