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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. 3 years down the line, it seemed like an endless road 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— but I once had dreams of becoming a beautiful poet . But upon an unfortunate series of events, I 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 it, 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’d been living, they asked me why. But there’s no use in talking to people who don’t belong; 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’s 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 who belonged to no one, who belonged to everyone, who had nothing, who wanted everything. There was a fire for every experience, and an obsession for freedom that terrified me to the point that I couldn’t even talk about it. It pushed me into 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, 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 can experience them? I have. I am fucking crazy — but I am free.