i was the winter of my life and the men that i met that night 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 in an endless world tour and my memories of them were the only things that substaine me and my only real happy times. i was a singer, not a real popular one. who one 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 and wished 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 have been doing, they asked me why. but there’s no use in talking with people who have a home. they have no idea what it’s like to seek safety. in other people, for home to wherever you lie your head. i was an unusual girl, my mother told me i had a chameleon’s soul, no moral compass pointing north, no fixed personality. just an inner exclusiveness that was as wide and as wavering as an ocean. and if i said i didn’t plan, for how it turned out i’d be a lying because i was the other women. i belong 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 it pushed me to a nomatic point of madness thst both dazzled and dizzied me.
