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...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 millions stars in the night sky. That I wished on over and over again, sparkling and broken. Bit I really didn't 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 its 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 that I had a chameleon soul. No morel compass pointing me due north. No fixed personality
Just an inner indecisiveness that was a wide and wavering as the ocean and if i said I didn't plan for it t 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
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.