sometimes i really believe that all that i am
is a girl who was once loved -- but
i’m done pretending that's
the beginning and end of me.
maybe the best moments of my life
happened in your passenger seat
and maybe they didn’t,
who’s to say?
i’m done pretending i have any certain ideas
about what’s coming

i haven’t driven by the hospital in months
because i still get the same sinking feeling in my stomach
when i walked out for the last time and
left you behind, hooked up to a million machines.
this town is dotted with little heartbreaks, places
where you left a mark on me,
and sometimes it’s just easier
to leave,

so i left. a summer in new jersey
was never quite what i planned,
which is fitting, since none of this was.
i'd be lying if i never said
that with every step i take
away from you
my head gets a little clearer,
my smile gets a little more
natural,
and maybe this is just how
healing is supposed to work.
maybe this is just how
deserts are crossed
and mountains are climbed;
step by step.