© · lexi's colours



i earned my first money drag racing, in a car that i kinda but not really stole for two weeks until i had the money to pay for it.

not that i was any good at racing;
i was just strongly driven by a small crush on adrenaline, a big love for freedom and a huge fear of being average.

i was also underestimated a lot for being a girl, so…

my god how such a seemingly simple thing like driving a car can give someone such strength.

i felt empowered.

it felt like finally, after 18 years of suppression from the man (and woman. i mean my parents), i took control.

there were so many possibilities. i could do or be anything;
so i was a fraction of everything.

i was even an outlaw for a while. that suited me well until it didn’t anymore.
i was mostly intrigued and surprised by that world; it was so new and yet it felt so safe.

now that I think about it, that turned into a little bit of a career.

oh, shut up, you’re not perfect either. and when you’re an odd 19 year old girl from a small town, with daddy, mommy and…let’s just say family issues, the temptation to make yourself seen is big.

by the time i was 23, i upped my driving game, started and left school a few times; seen some awesome places, experienced some intense emotions, had my own (fictive) computer company; moved a dozen times; made some interesting connections and some questionable choices; got arrested, lost everything; started over.

so by the time i was 23, i saw and lived every adventure i was curious about and i saw the world.
i got to meet the good and the really bad side of it.

there were moments when i had nothing, not even a place to live; and moments when it seemed i had everything.
what i really had, though, was a good intuition: they were mere moments. all of them.

and moments aren’t really worth compromising for or losing your mind over. so i didn’t.
there were even moments that forced me to stop compromising;
i stepped out of my family because it had no positivity to offer and i consumed mine.

i do admit, there’s something confusing in not belonging.
it gives you freedom, a lot of it;
but you don’t belong.

it’s like you’re always a tourist in people’s lives.
staying long enough to get to know them, leaving just before you might get attached.

i never had any plans with my life.
it felt arrogant to make any while having that kind of lifestyle, to be honest; and when i started over and was actually excited about making plans, i couldn’t make any.

it may have something to do with my childhood, when i never knew what the day was going to bring;
or with my short wanna-be-gangsta career and its unpredictable nature;
but there’s something about making plans that just marks the predictable as undeniably predictable and you can’t look away anymore.

i woke up in a new world this time.
this world didn’t even give me an accomplice, space to be myself or any kind of freedom or credit.
it didn’t interest me, yet i needed to make a connection with it.
it felt forced and belonging seemed further away than ever.

i was judged and my life was trivialized.
it made me feel small.

but i still didn’t belong. so there was no patience, kindness or empathy just waiting there to help me regroup.

i was also experiencing a new kind of adrenaline rush: watching out the window and wondering how long this was going to stay my view.

i was paralyzed.


and then a friend gave me an old car he won gambling, i think, and a dog.
the car was an e36 and the dog was chilly.

that changed things. i had my strength and freedom back, plus some purpose.

to be continued…maybe.

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