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.
I 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 lay 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 it, 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 that 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 your darkest fantasies?
Have you created a life for yourself where you can
experience them?
I have.
I am fucking crazy.
But.
I.
Am.
Free.