52. SADNESS AND BITTERNESS

/Charles/

"To be honest, I'm not feeling bad being stuck at home.
To see people I have to use a screen and I feel much more comfortable than when I'm in person, when there are no filters or protective barriers.
I can decide when to show up and how to be, and from a distance you can't really tell how I feel. I'm even able to have more fun than in person; I feel like I let myself go more, maybe because I don't have the stress of being there.
In person I can't dress, behave, say and do certain things; I always have to follow standards.
We organized some live streams on Twitch with George, Alex and Lando and I had a lot of fun, as did, obviously, everyone who watched. I think we'll do it again and the thought makes me happy. I don't know if it's because, in this period of forced isolation, I've somehow found my place. Maybe.
Sooner or later, though, I'll have to return to the world, but for now I'm still forced to stay away from everyone. If I don't want to see anyone, I simply don't answer the call, saying I was doing something else and couldn't answer.
No one knows I spend my days sitting at the piano getting used to it, or doing exercises to keep fit, the ones I can do here.
I can say 'I can't now' or 'I was busy, sorry', and I get by like that. An exchange of messages and everything passes. I don't have to answer and if I do, I don't have to worry about my face. I can keep it the way it wants to be. Expressionless, pained, sad and depressed. I don't know what it's like; I've stopped filling myself with photos and analyzing myself because there's no point in doing so.
I am the way I am, but here at home I don't have to worry about it anymore. No one will look at me, analyze me, or judge me.
I can control and modulate my voice, I can make it cheerful when talking to Pierre and I can avoid Max, who, by the way, doesn't even contact me. I think he's angry with me for that time in Barcelona. He hasn't contacted me since then, but he's right.
If one day we go back to looking for something from each other, it’ll be because we're both fine. Now he's angry and that's normal and I'm fine with that. It's no longer my choice. I'm not the one who should reject him because I'm not ready yet and I'm still messed up as usual.
He's the one who doesn't want me. That's okay. He's ideal for me.
Besides, even if we wanted to, we couldn't.
Destiny somehow chose for me.
I had to isolate myself from everything and everyone, withdraw into myself and that's it. It went well, despite how bad everything that's happening is and I understand that thinking it's good for me is crazy and selfish. In reality I am. Crazy and selfish.
Maybe I just have to accept that I'm full of those flaws I tried not to have because my father raised me a certain way and didn't want me to be that way.
He was kind, humble, respectful, altruistic... I tried to be that way too and I wanted nothing more than to make him proud; wherever he is, he'll look at me and think I'm a good guy or a terrible son. He'll either be happy with me or disappointed.
The thought of disappointing him tears me apart, because if he'd been here with me, I certainly would have been able to be what he wanted, I would have truly been. Instead I'm building myself up and trying at all costs to be that way. But I'm not succeeding and this forcing myself to be different from who I really am, destroys me and hurts me and makes me regress, do stupid things, hurt everyone around me.
So maybe in the end it's about accepting that I'm not exactly what he wanted me to be, how he tried to raise me. I'm a selfish, narcissistic asshole who only thinks about himself. Someone who wants to win at all costs, competitive to the extreme, touchy and easily hated.
I don't care about anyone or anything and I really don't give a damn about others.
I think back to what Seb told me.
I hide my true character. He understood it before me that I was forcing myself to be what I thought I should be; but the truth is that I wasn't really like that and under pressure, the true, authentic sides of me came out.
Annoyance towards everyone around me, especially those who try to take my place and surpass me. I have to be ahead of everyone.
Because it pisses me off so much that someone is ahead of me.
Am I really that horrible of a person?
Do I really not care about others at all?
I think back to Pierre and how much I resisted so as not to make him suffer too much and how sorry I am for him and for what I ultimately did to him anyway.
I think back to how much I held back with Max despite all the times we were on the verge of kissing, how much it cost me. And only because I was afraid of hurting him the same way I did with Pierre and I didn't want to.
Maybe it's not that I'm a complete son of a bitch, but there's something in me.
Something that's not how I'd like it to be.
I care about others, I'm not insensitive and selfish.
It's just that I can’t show my feelings and emotions the way I think I should.
Staying isolated is just a palliative, but it's not the real cure. It won't help me.
Sooner or later I'll have to come out of this bubble and face the world again and I'll have to get back in the game.
I'll see people in person again, I'll talk to them and I'll have to convince them that I'm human like everyone else, or accept that I'm not. Not like everyone else. Being different.
Sad? Depressed? Maybe, yes... maybe that's it... or maybe I'm cold and insensitive and only care about a few people in the world.
My family, my close friends, Pierre. Max? What is Max? Why should I care so much about him?
He's just a guy who attracts me and who drives me crazy with the idea of ​​fuck with him. I don't even know what he wants, whether it's a relationship or just sex. If it was just sex, why not do it?
Because I'm not an idiot, the way he takes care of me and the patience he has with me, aren't the kind of things someone who just wants a couple of fucks does.
Okay, but that's his problem.
I want to fuck him, he wants it too. Those are the facts that matter, right?
Why not just do it?
Well, I care. I guess I don't want to hurt him, otherwise I would have already done it.
And then it all coincided with this weird relationship with Pierre. I didn't want to cheat on him even though we weren't really committed.
But then it was something else. It's undeniable.
There was a moment when I could indulge in that whim without being truly committed to Pierre anymore and I didn't want to, because I'm afraid of being a little psychopathic monster.
What really throws me into a crisis is Max. I've been consistent with Pierre: I realize I have feelings for him, it's affection, he also helped me realize that I'm bisexual and I like guys too. Maybe guys more than girls.
It's with Max that I haven't been consistent. Nothing I've done or continue to do with him makes sense.
Sooner or later this damned isolation will end and we'll be racing again. I'll be back in the world always under the watchful eye of cameras, journalists, fans, people everywhere watching me, scrutinizing me, studying me. Even with masks on they'll notice that my eyes never change expression. This problem will be even more noticeable and they'll crucify me because everyone will want to know what's wrong with me, if I'm okay, they'll shower me with unsolicited attention and advice, and they'll want the morbid scoop.
While I just want to be left alone, like I am here, isolated from the world.
Even though I miss it, to be honest.
Not the world, but racing.
What I feel on my car, that sense of absolute freedom, the speed, the power. There I can be completely myself without feeling inadequate or wrong. I can race because it's the only thing that matters, forgetting everything else.
I'm only comfortable in the car, only on the track, only out there. It's the only thing that helps me to push myself and find a way, a system, to be able to stay out there.
Or I'll have to get used to the looks and the questions, make myself even more indifferent to everything.

As my fingers run over the black and white keys of my brother's piano, I realize he was right when he said playing is different from hearing.
It sucks me in and I spend hours and hours in free-form sessions, playing without realizing what or how, following my ear, stopping when I realize I'm out of tune and starting over again, better and more melodiously. And when I finish, every time I realize they're sad melodies.
They're all sad melodies. All of them.
I play while I reflect on myself and sometimes I don't even do that.
I just play following that internal melody I try to bring out, sometimes I bring it out and only afterward do I realize what was inside me.
In the end, when it seems finished or decent, I record it on my phone and listen again; only afterward, with a cool head, do I realize what it is that's inside me.
I have a tangle of black sadness and absolute depression that I didn't realize I had.
Not so much. Not to this extent.
It's sadness that blocks me and prevents other emotions from coming out. It's not that I'm incapable of feeling anything, it's that my sadness blocks them.
How do I let sadness out? How do I get rid of it?

As I try to find this answer, the time comes to leave the house and the thought fills me with anxiety and anguish.
I look in the mirror as my mother cuts my hair, which I'd let grow unkempt without meaning to do anything about. I shave more out of duty, while something rebels inside me because I liked the beard on my face. My face not clean and neat, made more sense. As my face returns to its usual appearance, that of a good boy, I realize that it's not even remotely true.
It's yet another lie.
Short hair, a regular, normal cut, well-groomed, well-maintained, a very clean and smooth face.
I force a smile that now seems grotesque.
I sigh and shake my head.
And yet it's time to go out. It's time to do it.
I look in the closet for clothes to wear. I've worn shapeless suits and never had to think about it; it was nice. It was relaxing. I didn't have to think about the impression I wanted to make or how I felt. Did I have to be elegant? Professional? How should I be?
And now? Now that duty comes back.
I have to dress well, right? I have to meet some people for work, I have things to do with the sponsors I've signed with, so I'll have to appear cheerful and happy to be back out there. I have to dress well, but not too much. It's still a work session, after all, and then they'll dress me to do what they want me to do.
While thinking about these things, I change clothes three times; on the fourth I tell myself to go to hell and keep what I have even if I don't like it and don't think it reflects how I feel. Because, honestly, I'm full of anxiety and how does anxiety dress?
I don't want to see anyone in person, I don't want to go out, I don't want to do anything at all.
I need another mask, a more substantial than the one we'll take off sooner or later. I need a more solid and secure mask.
Maybe it's time to find another girlfriend.
Think about the car, Charles. Think about the track. It's the first step to racing again. It's there, only there, where you feel truly good. The speed, the freedom, the blurring of the world, everything indistinct and you flying.
Think about that. You'll see that, little by little, you'll get used to it again and everything will be fine.
In the meantime, while you wait to get up there again and race, you have the piano, right? You'll follow a new melody and record it when feels right and you'll see how sad and dramatic it still is, or perhaps, in this case, full of anxiety and nervousness.
If I don't know how I feel and what I am, the piano will still be there to mirror what's inside me. Somehow, I'm walking.”

/Max/

"What's happening to Seb hits everyone like a bolt from the blue. Some are more affected than others, but honestly, I'm feeling like shit.
I didn't think they'd dump him like that and as soon as the news gets out there by Ferrari as as a consensual separation by both parties, my first instinct is to text him and ask for an explanation, but since I don't have his number, I can’t; so the second thing I think of is texting Charles. He definitely has his number and he definitely knows the secrets behind this story, but I stop when I pick up the phone.
I can't.
I hold it like a madman until I'm shaking, bite my lip, and stare hard at the black screen that I could shatter if I didn't loosen.
I can't text Charles for any reason. We haven't spoken in months and I'm definitely not going to do it first and then ask about Seb.
Damn.
How frustrating!
I throw the phone on the couch, cursing through gritted teeth. It's not because I can't get firsthand information about Seb and what's happening to him, but it's because I can't talk to Charles if I need to.
How stupid is this whole shitty situation!
How long are we going to go on like this? We'll see each other sooner or later, right? They say we'll start racing  again between June and July; they're rewriting the calendar. What the fuck is the problem? I have to find a way to be with him without running him over, but then I realize it's bullshit.
How much did we hate each other and almost run over each other at the first opportunity?
Our relationship has always been like this, we just had a bizarre and shocking moment, but now he can go to hell again.
I'm perfectly capable of managing myself and if I want to know information about Seb, I'll find a way!
I grab my phone and throw myself on the couch instead, then I start messing around online. First I read what people are saying, but there's nothing concrete; they're all based on the shocking news of the separation, someone like me doubt it was consensual and that Seb knew.
The second thing is to write to Ray; somehow, managers know everything about everyone.
It doesn't hurt to try.
'Do you know anything about Seb?'
Ray quickly responds; it's one of his many qualities. He's always present and punctual as clockwork.
'They'll hire Sainz in his place.'
It doesn't surprise me. Carlos Sainz was a colleague of mine briefly at Red Bull at the beginning, when Daniel left. I'm not surprised by this choice because he's a very good driver, but not a future world champion; there are those you watch race and immediately think: 'This guy will win at least a world championship someday.' And then there are those who are good, really very good, but who lack that certain something that makes you say with certainty, 'I don't know when, but one day he'll lift a world cup!'
Carlos seems more like an excellent support player to me; he'll always bring good points and useful results to the team. Like Bottas, for example. If there's a win to be had because the leading driver isn't having a good race, he's there and he wins. If there's a need to slow down some rivals and allow your teammate to win, he can do it.
It's a good choice and, above all, a very intelligent one.
The only thing that's wrong is his character. To be like Bottas, you have to have his character and not everyone has that. There are those who follow any order and are happy with everything, but Carlos is Spanish, has a fiery temperament and is also supported by an overbearing father. Former F1 champions who follow their kids on the track are usually just a pain in the ass. Personal experience.
My father has never won anything, but he raced in F1 and that somehow made him believe he could piss me off. Even if many of the things he taught me are actually useful, and I owe him a lot -I won't deny that- but he's still a pain in the ass.
Seb is too champion to be under Charles and it's obvious that now they're targeting him now, that’s right, I understand perfectly. They'd be crazy not to.
Charles is a future world champion, but he needs help, and putting the right driver next to him who won't overshadow him or work against him, but who can instead help him both to improve and then in the races, is important.
But I don't think Carlos's ego will allow him to be the right driver for him.
In the end Seb sacrificed a lot for Ferrari. Everyone knows that the car Charles used to get results with in the second half of last season, is the one Seb improved thanks to the sacrifices and strategies that penalized him and which he wanted to develop himself. These are useful things to improve the car, but not all drivers are willing to do them; he did it. A guy who won four world championships.
He gave so much, more than he could have been expected to, and they rewarded him like that.
If they think Carlos is willing to do the same, sacrificing his races to do risky experiments on his car, they're very wrong; they haven't understood anything. And Charles so much less.
Absorbed by these thoughts, Ray texts me again shortly after.
'They say Seb didn't know anything and that he'll talk at the first press conference.'
Ah, now I recognize him! I can already imagine the scene!
I smile with a grin of admiration, impossible not to appreciate him.
You might even think that for the sake of the driver you want to bet on, it's better to put a different kind of teammate next to him, that's fine, but doing it in this mean way is obscene.
Seb will get a lot of things out of the way as soon as he can. What a shitty situation.
And Red Bull is equally shitty in this regard. Look what they've done to all my teammates, starting with Daniel and then Pierre, and you'll see if things won't go badly for Alex too, even though he seems to be staying for now.
They're no less bastards, but this puritanical facade that Ferrari is so keen to put up to gain goodwill, when in reality it's rotten to the core, is truly sickening.
I feel sorry for Charles, who married such a piece of shit. You'll see, one day, when he's no longer useful to them and there's some new young future champion around, they'll dump him in the same despicable and disgusting way they dumped Seb.
Frustrated by not having Seb's number and not being able to text him that I'm sorry and that I'm on his side, I shake my head and let go of the phone.
F1 is a nightmare disguised as a dream, but no one can help but want it.
And I know it'll happen to me too. When I'm no longer the future champion and Helmut can no longer protect me, Red Bull won't think twice about dumping me.
I'm untouchable only as long as I maintain my driving potential and as long as he's there. It's clear that the current problem is that we don't have a car that's up to the Mercedes, but I'm still one of the most promising drivers of the present and the future. I just have to maintain these expectations and this level, and even improve.
As soon as something in me starts to go down or someone better than me arrives, someone who isn't already married to Ferrari or Mercedes, it'll be the end for me, and they'll have no consideration. I'll be the Seb of the situation. Dumped like a useless piece of shit.
At that point I don't know if I'd be willing to stay in that circus. I'm staying for the expectations of winning, and I'm not talking about GPs, but World Championships. The expectations are there, the possibilities are there. But if they were to drop me and the only alternatives were inferior packages with which you could at most aim for points and certainly not win races, I don't think I'd be able to.
Obviously, right now we're not the kind of car that aims for victory in every race, but it often happens and in any case, we're working to actually achieve that.
I mean, Seb won four world championships with Red Bull, so they're a team capable of doing it and we all expect them to succeed, but when I'm no longer a good choice for them and I have to choose between Renault and Williams, I'll shoot myself in the balls.
I won't be able to stay; I know myself and I already know that.
When my Red Bull adventure ends, my F1 adventure will also end.
I'm already sure of this because that's how I am.
I race to win, with a real chance, if not today, then tomorrow.
I can't race to stay in the crowd and steal a few points. What's the ambition there?
There are those who simply enjoy being there, racing, overtaking and living in that adrenaline rush. But for me, it's different.
I was raised to be a victory machine, not a racing driver.
It's a very different thing.
My father turned me into this and right or wrong, horrible or beautiful, in the end this is who I am.
I don't race in F1 because I like it, but to win. It's winning that I like. Winning is the only thing that matters.
I'm wired to win.
But I realize that it's my father who did everything to shape me this way; every kick, punch, insult and lesson was aimed at this and now I am like this.
For Charles it's different.
His father, while he was around, raised him to be a winning driver, but above all a person.
Always a person.
It's just that he's not.
He's more like me, but while I was pushed to be like this, I was actually transformed into this, for Charles it's nature.
That's how he is.
He's a winning machine, he races to win, he doesn't care about anything else.
In this we are identical, that's why we've always clashed on the track and hated each other, and now we're attracted to each other. That's what attracts us so much.
We're the same, but for different reasons.
I was transformed, he was born this way.
What drives him so crazy, however, is that he doesn't accept his true nature and tries to mold himself based on what, perhaps, his father wanted him to be. I don't know, but he's certainly never been what he appears to be.
We had a switch at birth without realizing it.
I laugh at the idea of ​​a cradle swap; Charles and my father would certainly make a bizarre couple.
Anyway the obscene experience Seb is going through is an eye-opener and makes me realize that if I don't want to end up treated prematurely like my other colleagues in recent years, it's time to get back into the ruthless Max that my father so carefully crafted. I don't like it, but I am. I am now. I have no choice but to be. It's no longer my will.”

NOTES: These chapters are meant to capture the personal growth of both of them. Both of them began to change in 2020, it’s quite obvious and natural, given their ages and, above all, what they've been through (the pandemic has affected everyone). I couldn't simply jump forward to when they started racing again or to when the change I want them to undergo is complete; or rather, I could, but I didn't want to. I prefer to show the stages, the growth processes. Because my motto when I write is 'show, don't tell.'
In addition to Covid, during that period they found themselves experiencing Seb's situation with Ferrari from the outside. I don't know if Max was truly affected as I've described, but I think that story affected everyone, especially the way Ferrari dumped him saying it was a consensual separation when he didn't even know it. I liked how he got lost in thoughts about F1 and the drivers; Max is a workaholic, so I imagine him sometimes getting lost in mental ramblings about the racing world. Although I think he talks about it more than he thinks about it, he talks about it with whoever he can, but I didn't want to make it too long or include too much. The idea was that he was reflecting on his career and on F1.
The next chapter sees them back racing and the drivers meet again in person. Charles and Max, too. See you next time. Kisses, Akane.