It’s the way I say things sometimes that hurts other people's feelings.
It’s the way I say things sometimes that makes them wonder if I even care.
But I do care,
I really do.
I’m just afraid.
Afraid of the impressions that I’ve made and making the same mistakes,
and acting fake.
My mind just won't stop thinking about the pain that I caused
and what the right thing to do was.
I think about that a lot
and if I can ever get my past back. Sometimes I wish I could...
but I can’t.
Why can’t you just accept me for who I am? I’m sorry for who I was back then.
It can’t be over,
we’ll miss all the fun.

It’s not the work I did
but the work I haven’t done that makes me wonder
where the day has gone.
It seems like yesterday that we were both just kids and it really didn’t matter what either of us did.
Because I know I could get it right if only I had the time.
I’m just not good at expressing myself and the way that I feel.
Because I’ve been hurt
and I still have a long way to heal.
Or maybe I am healed and it just left a scar, a sign,
and a mark.
Something that says where I from, how I was raised,
and how far I’ve come.

But you act like the person I am is not the person I should be. And I’ll tell you something:
It used to bother me.
But then I started thinking for myself
and I stopped wishing I was somebody else.
You see,
everything,
is open for interpretation
and so is what to do in any situation.
We forget there is no one true method
and all we know is what’s generally accepted. And as much as I try
I just don’t get it.
I know it doesn’t appear like I’m doing anything. I’m 27
and I don’t really know where my life is going.
I can’t afford
much more
than gas in my car.
And I used that gas to explore the open road I really didn’t know
where I would go
when I left my life

to find my home.
I was cold
and I was alone
and I found answers to most of my questions.
I found courage
and I found what real work is.
I found that I was actually good something: one thing,
writing...
performing...
Storytelling...
And I found a place with people like me: With writers and poets,
and singers and prophets.
So you see,
I do want to be accepted,
I really do.
I do want to be accepted.
Just not by you.
Not by someone who believes what you do. The thing is,
you don’t have to like everything
about everyone.

But you do have to show them love.

That's it.