~free&+spirited~

Angel. 17. Talk to me, im nice. :)

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Permalink “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 that 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, 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 my motto is the same as ever. I believe in the kindness of strangers. And when I am 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.”
Permalink My lovely Jess, I’m so sorry that it took me so long to make you something for your birthday but I was so uninspired. I hope you had a wonderful day and that this is the last one we spent apart :( 
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Perhaps it’s true that things can change in a day. That a few dozen hours can affect the outcome of whole lifetimes. And that when they do, those few dozen hours, like the salvaged remains of a burned house—the charred clock, the singed photograph, the scorched furniture—must be resurrected from the ruins and examined. Preserved. Accounted for. Little events, ordinary things, smashed and reconstituted. Imbued with new meaning. Suddenly they become the bleached bones of a story.

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Permalink fuckyeahsexanddrugs: because maybe you’re gonna be the one that saves me
Permalink sereneoasis: queued x