Max Verstappen is a beast on track, dominating season after season. But on the inside, he is slowly unraveling, his mental health declining faster and faster.
Natalia Bridgers is daughter of a famous model and a world-renowned billionaire. Tied to...
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Current 3-time F1 World Champion Max Verstappen spotted with ex-model Natalia Bridgers at a restaurant together in Monaco!
The Free Practices and Qualifying in Jeddah go as usual, nothing off or necessarily wrong. I land pole position, like always, so that helps.
Still, the sadness accompanying me from the week off has yet to leave. I live and breathe F1, and I truly feel at peace when I'm in the car, everything fading to background noise. It's as if the rest of my life doesn't exist.
But it does.
And the weeks and weekends without being in the car go by in blurs if sadness and headaches. My depression likes to bring along headaches, so I sipped water desperately last night. The last thing I needed was to drive through a migraine on the race today.
Unfortunately, the headache was still there this morning. Fortunately, it's began to dull with time, water, and some light medicine.
Carlos isn't here for this race, and a young racer named Oliver Bearman, though everyone calls him Ollie, is driving for him. He reminds me of me when I was younger, except a happier, carefree version. And a version with better parents. His dad is always looking at Ollie, especially while racing. He isn't worried about winning or being the best, he just wants to make sure his son comes back, alive and well and happy.
My stomach sinks, although I'm used to seeing parents care for their children. That's a foreign concept for me.
~
The race is a 1-2 for us, again, which is the maximum points for us. Can't complain.
My father doesn't text me, although I messed up a few times. The agitation creeps up on me for hours, so when Daniel suggests going to a party nearby, I agree.
I usually don't go to parties, preferring to drink alone, but recently I've started to attend. Not only can I drink a lot without anyone judging me, but I also do the minimum amount of socialization so none of the drivers whisper about me.
I hate that I let it bother me, but I caught a few drivers talking and then stop when I pass by. It's honestly is ridiculous and childish, but it still feels terrible.
My father told me to never join in on the practice of gossiping, that I should be focused solely on races instead of other peoples drama. He was right, which made him preen at his own "words of wisdom."
The small party is just a get-together with the drivers and a few of their friends. Beer is being served, and I quickly down several cups.
Daniel watches me curiously, concern flashing in his eyes with each cup. I pretend not to notice or care because he worries about everyone. He's a protector like that. There's nothing I'm doing wrong, I remind myself.
Some time later, Daniel shrugs, his face clearly radiating his thoughts, fuck it. He downs several cups with me.
All us drivers get drunk as hell, so a game of truth or dare quickly ensues. I automatically decline, even while drunk, because I value my privacy and will to do things.
