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 tour ,
and my memories of them
were the only things that sustained me ;
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'd 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 .
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 .