I Was Right

“I Was Right” is about the strange kind of heartbreak that comes when your intuition is finally proven right and, instead of feeling validated, you wish more than anything that you had been wrong. I wrote this song because sometimes being right doesn't feel like winning.

For a long time, my body was telling me something wasn't right. I noticed inconsistencies. I felt distance. Certain answers never quite settled the questions inside me. There were moments when my chest seemed to understand something my mind couldn't explain yet. But I didn't want my intuition to be right. I wanted to trust him. I wanted his reassurance to be true. I wanted that uncomfortable feeling inside me to be anxiety, insecurity, overthinking, anything other than my body noticing a reality my heart wasn't ready to accept.

That's why the line, “I was right, and I wish I wasn’t The truth didn’t free me, it only crushed me.” became the heart of this song. There was no satisfaction in finally knowing. There was grief. Because the truth didn't only change how I understood the ending. It traveled backward and made me look differently at memories I once felt safe inside. Suddenly, I was replaying everything. When did it change? What was real? What did I miss? Was that feeling trying to tell me something all along? And underneath all of those questions was an even deeper grief: I had trusted his words more than I trusted myself. I don't blame myself for wanting to believe someone I loved. Trust isn't something I'm ashamed of giving. But I do grieve the times I abandoned my own perception because someone else's explanation was easier to live with than what I was afraid might be true.

The bridge gets to another important part of the song: “I don’t miss you I miss who I thought you were.” That's a very different kind of grief. I wasn't necessarily longing for the relationship back. I was mourning the version of someone I believed I knew. The person I trusted, defended, loved, and built memories around. And accepting that my understanding of him may not have been complete was sometimes harder than accepting the breakup itself.

This song isn't about celebrating that my intuition was right. It's about grieving that it had to be. And I don't want the lesson to become “never trust anyone again.” I want the lesson to be that I don't have to abandon myself in order to trust someone else. I can love someone and still listen when something repeatedly doesn't add up. I can give someone the benefit of the doubt without giving away my relationship with my own perception. And if someone's words and the reality I'm experiencing continue to conflict, I'm allowed to become curious about that instead of immediately deciding I must be the problem. Being right didn't bring me peace. But I'm taking something back from the experience that eventually might: the ability to believe myself again.