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 to visions of my self dancing and laughing and crying with them. 

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,  

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, because I knew that it takes everything you ever wanted, and losing it - to know what true freedom is.

There is no use talking to people who have a home.

They have no idea what its like to seek safety in other people.

For a 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 to the 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.

I belonged to no one, who belonged to everyone,

who had nothing, 

who wanted everything. 

it 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.

and pushed me to a nomadic point of madness

that both dazzled and dizzied me.