I
was in the winter of my life – and the men I met along the road were my
only summer. At night I fell asleep with visions of myself dancing and
laughing and crying with them. Three years down the line of being on an
endless world tour and my memories of them were the only things that
sustained me, and my only real happy times. I was a singer, not a very
popular one, who once had dreams of becoming a beautiful poet – but upon
an unfortunate series of events saw those dreams dashed and divided
like a million stars in the night sky that I wished on over and over
again – sparkling and broken. But I didn’t really mind because I knew
that it takes getting everything you ever wanted and then losing it to
know what true freedom is.
When
the people I used to know found out what I had been doing, how I had
been living – they asked me why. But there’s no use in talking to people
who have a home, they have no idea what it’s like to seek safety in
other people, for home to be wherever you lie your head.
I was always an unusual girl, my mother told me I had a chameleon soul.
No moral compass pointing due north, no fixed personality. Just an inner
indecisiveness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean. And if I
said I didn’t plan for it to turn out this way I’d be lying – because I
was born to be the other woman. I belonged to no one – who belonged to
everyone, who had nothing – who wanted everything with a fire for every
experience and an obsession for freedom that terrified me to the point
that I couldn’t even talk about – and pushed me to a nomadic point of
madness that both dazzled and dizzied me.
Every night I used to pray that I’d find my people – and finally I did –
on the open road. We had nothing to lose, nothing to gain, nothing we
desired anymore – except to make our lives into a work of art.
Live fast. Die young. Be wild. And have fun!
I believe in the country America used to be. I believe in the person I
want to become. I believe in the freedom of the open road. And my motto
is the same as ever *I believe in the kindness of strangers. And when
I’m at war with myself … I Ride. I Just Ride.*
Who are you? Are you in touch with all of your darkest fantasies? Have
you created a life for yourself where you’re free to experience them?
I Have. I am Fucking Crazy.
But I Am Free.
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