Isn't That Funny and Sad Too?

This is a story which was inspired by the music video, lyrics and monologue 'Ride - Lana Del Rey'. Some of the lines in my story are direct quotes from the monologue.

New York City. To many, those three words linger with excitement and fame, and symbolise the bright lights of a magical city, but to me, I dreamt to have the address of anywhere else on the planet. People may judge and criticize me, but I don’t care for other’s opinions, I never have. I suppose it was by chance to have been born with the surname Davern. Both my father and his generations have been successful entrepreneurs and alone with their millions of dollars, they also developed a reputation of the family name. My family and I, set the socialite status in this city. When I entered this world, little did I realise the luxurious ways of life that I was so fortunate to experience, thanks to a few extra dollars in the bank. We were blessed to spend our summers in the Hamptons and the rest of the year in Manhattan. I attended the no.1 private prep school in the state and no doubt, there was high expectations to rekindle in the footsteps of my forefathers and achieve an academic excellence. I slept in a room in which could be considered every teen girl’s fantasy. I always had the best of everything, a four poster bed, the latest upgrade of a gadget, a shih-tzu pup. My closet, from ceiling to floor was bursting with unworn clothes each with a label attached that read “Miss Davern, we hope you enjoy our new spring/summer collection” from top designers like DKNY and Valentino. It was clear that I did not live the life of an average 18 year old girl. Yes, being a Davern in a city like New York certainly unveiled many opportunities, but my father’s wealth could not deliver my burning desire of happiness. People often refer to New York City as a “concrete jungle where dreams are made of” but for me, it was nothing more than a concrete cell in which I lusted to escape.

I was always an unusual girl, my mother told me I had a chameleon soul, with no moral compass. She could always see through my transparent figure that I was a simple girl who desired nothing more than a legitimate lifestyle. Every night, I had visions of myself being part of an ordinary, middle-class family. One might argue that I could have been an actress in which, I too, would agree. I disguised my true emotion with a false identity which oozed a light-hearted confidence to my family, to the papers, to my Twitter followers. To the outside world, my public persona painted me as a felicitous, charming idol for adolescences all over the world but in the inside, I was hollow internally. I screamed with rage, frustration and a melancholy sadness, I longed for a life far from judgement and admiration but to be an 18 year old girl to act her age with no responsibilities or the pressures of being Walter Davern’s offspring. So, I decided to leave. I decided to run away with the only person’s opinion that mattered to me, Adam. We left that night in June. He collected me in his battered pick-up truck and began our journey on the open road. As we sped out of the city to a destination unknown, I was filled with bliss. It was here when life for me began with choice not chance, because for once, I made a decision for my own future, without anybody’s ‘say-so’ or clarification. 

Three years down the line being on this endless world tour, escaping from our demanding lifestyles, we discovered that we weren’t alone. I used to always pray that I’d find my people and finally I did, on the open road. The travelling strangers became our friends, our companions, our fellow highway users, who we would experience the journey of life on the road together. 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 is 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 lie your head.

My dream way of life was cut short when the love of my life was stolen from me. The road had always been our friend, our home, but now it was our foe. It was hazardous, dangerous and can destroy one’s dream in a matter of seconds. Without, the best part of me by my Heavenly side, I could no longer continue our journey. The dream was over. To experience the death of a loved one, was like a broken arrow, it had no function and lost its sense of direction. So, it was a matter of choice to return to the city, and to the life I once had. 

I cannot express if I was surprised that the city nor the people had changed in all the years I was absent. I resented reliving this life once more, when I lusted for my estranged one. I tried to recreate the only memories that sustained me by placing pen to paper and sharing our way of life to the ears of the world. I had countless recollections to confess. I found myself writing lyrics to our magnificent daily routines. We desired nothing, but to have fun. On the road, every member in our elite group would entertain the riders at sunset. Adam’s talent was his wisdom of knowledge. One could ask puzzling questions about religion or the after-life and he would feed that question with a fruitful answer. These elements of his personality defined him as an electric and charismatic individual and in that way, I understood him and I loved him. I was a singer, not a very popular one. I once had dreams of becoming a beautiful poet. By encountering these memories once more, I ignited these sunset traditions and brought these historical events to life again. At home, I was urged to share our happy times with anybody who would listen. I took my lyrics, along with my voice to a NYC record company and I sang my memories. I guess it was by chance, coming from my family, encouraged producers to pursue my dreams of creating copies of our tales. I could never have imagined the impact these travelling tales would have on listeners. To have people quote a lyric, brought both a smile to my face and a warmth to my heart. I was both extremely blessed and overwhelmed to sing my songs on stage to all walks of life around the globe. I read fan letters of how “I would love to be a fellow traveller” or “I will recoil your memories on the road” and I feel joy and the connection I have with supporters, but I then think of the sorrow and heart-break when I realise my days of travelling are forever in the past. I am filled with grief when I think of my love. It’s funny that in a densely populated city like New York, I feel I am a lost soul without my love. Therefore, I believe that life cannot be destined by chance or by choice as my followers surround me but if I had the chance, I would choose to spend my life with only one person. “Isn’t that funny and sad, too?”

“To the world you might be one person, but to one person you might be the world.”