Gifts

I forget that I'm free sometimes. I forget that I have wings and that life is so vast that no wings are ever going to be enough. I forget about all I've seen, all the people who's hearts I've touched - my thought process becomes too small, like my skin is forcing my very bones to shrink.

But then I pick up my pen and my notepad and it all starts to make sense again.

Kenny Chesney – Beer In Mexico