For Lando, it was always hard. The attention of the press, the pressure from others, the crushing expectations. He couldn't seem to be like others to stop giving a shit about what people were saying about him. Deep down, he was still just a boy who wanted to be praised, a boy who wanted to be enough, but Formula One wasn't the right place for that.
This sport was ruthless. It was so easy to cut someone's throat that he regretted choosing this path in life. Of course, not everyone felt that way. Max Verstappen or Lewis Hamilton - they seemed to be born for this. No praising was needed. Maybe Lando was just too kind, too nice, too gentle.
He tried to create a mask of that tough guy too. He tried to erase that little boy in him. Occasionally, he peeked here and then, when Lando relaxed too much, when he felt comfortable. He always bit his cheek when he realised this part of him had been shown to the world by him again. It was his punishment for letting others know he had feelings.
Eventually, he made this mask work, but the cost of it was exorbitant. Everything turned into a great act which was endless. Nothing felt real. He didn't feel real.
He was laughing in a room full of strangers on the verge of tears just because he didn't want to let anyone down. The team really needed those sponsors. They needed him to be a good boy who would present himself in the best light because that was what sponsors wanted - a perfect flawless driver that was determined, competitive and confident.
He was attending events and having conversations he didn't enjoy and mostly didn't even understand them. Well, maybe he was too stupid to understand. After all, he left school without taking his A levels because he wanted to pursue his dreams. Most likely, he was always the dumbest person in the room. At least he felt like it.
It wasn't hard to lose track of what he was saying since he tended to ramble a lot. Nobody really listened to him. No one paid attention. Why should they? He was there to smile and take a couple of photos with someone.
Pose there. Eat this. Look there. Wave. Stop, you look stupid. Say hi to those people. Stop by there. Say this. Nah, don't do that. Smile. You shouldn't really do this. Go there. He could hear it in his ears. It felt like commands. Well, maybe they were. He was their little puppet they dragged around.
Those were the versions of Lando they created for their purpose or profit. Because who would be interested in that scared little boy with shaky hands and blurry vision from the tears? Who would like that timid boy whose cheeks got red when he should speak in public? Who would want to see that boy who needed a little bit of kindness from others and himself? No one.
When he was a kid, he used to think he could fly. He believed he could do this all. He was so confident in himself, but nowadays, he was just holding on. He felt as if his wings had been clipped, just like his beliefs and confidence. He doubted everything.
People told him he should be happy. He was on top of the world. He was one of twenty. They said he was so lucky to get this opportunity. Did no one really see the cost of it all? Did nobody notice how unhappy he was? Maybe someone did, but did it really matter to someone? Did he matter to someone?
Eventually, the Briton met a girl. He had the feeling she would be interested in that scared little boy. She wouldn't mind him being timid. She would want to see him as he was, and she would like to give him the kindness he needed. He had the feeling he did matter to her.
But it wasn't easy. Lando didn't know how to behave around her. His walls were so high. They almost reached heaven. He was scared to show her his true self, but he was also exhausted from all that acting. He was afraid he would fall in love with that tough mask and not with him - the real him. How could she love him when he did not love himself either?
