At seven years old, life was pretty fun.
Playing in the rain, jumping into puddles.
There wasn't much to cause worry,
I knew where I belonged.

At fourteen years old, life got a bit different.
Major things happened, like moving and
receiving my first guitar at Christmas.
Though it felt complicated than at seven,
I had an idea of where I belonged.

At sixteen-seventeen, I had a crisis.
Felt my first heartbreak,
peer pressured all around,
acting in ways that wasn't me,
desperately trying not to seem different.
Where do I belong?

Fast forward few years from that point,
I thought it would be easier in time.
Though I'm grateful to have made it this far,
the things I thought about being twenty-two was false.
Even with more problems, and far more questions,
I'm kind of having fun,
trying to figure out,
who I am.