Fame. The eighth unknown deadly sin, right? If that's the case, why is it that everybody wants those four golden letters. F-A-M-E. I'm not just talking about the bright lights and Hollywood Boulevard, but also, the feeling of being something, someone. Everyone wants that. To show themselves to the world, warts and all, as it were, and for the world to smile back, unwittingly, accepting every goddamn thing.
Four little letters with the power to make you or break you. Who would want to be famous? Well, it seems pretty much all of us. We all want that thrill of being recognised, the feeling that you're appreciated for your talent and more than anything, that you have a fan-base that accept you for who you really are, as well as who you want to be. However, it's easy to get swept off your feet by Fame, seduced and then left pining for something you never should have fallen into in the first place. It takes over, engulfing everything, from your friendships to your relationships, to the route you take on a morning to Starbucks. Fame sticks around, for it's sins.
It's the ever-insistent third wheel, the friend that follows you everywhere, waiting for you to slip up and point out your mistakes, the ghost that haunts you, the problem that rears its ugly head whenever you think you're safe and it's dead and gone, the interfering, persistent ex. If you commit to it, you've got to be serious. You can't go into the fame half-heartedly; it absorbs you and throws you into the vicious jaws of the media, of which you aren't guaranteed to get out alive. For some, it's salvation, for others, it's disrepute. You don't get a first chance, if you're lucky. Some of the unluckiest of us get a second, or a third, or a fifth-fourth shot at fame. Fame will ruin your life unless it's everything you've ever wanted as well as so much more. If it isn't, it never will be. If it's not enough, to be 'famous', infamous or celebrated, you'll be devoured by it.
Whether you want to be an actor, a doctor, a writer or an astronaut, who you are as a person means everything. The difference between 'Making It' and finding yourself in the metaphorical gutter, downtrodden, the grey skies overhead, with only dashed hopes and good intentions for company, is tiny. But, on the off-chance you do make it, should it be something to raise a glass to, or would a paper bag over your head be more appropriate. The latter, it would seem. Maybe being 'famous' isn't all it's cut out to be. The industry is savage, ruthless, unforgiving. Full of rules and limitations, boundaries and restrictions. Surely that isn't a reason to be famous. Just think, your lover, your best friend, your stalker. They will all go by the same name. So, what will it be? Are you ready to make your choice? Now, here's the million dollar question...
What are you willing to give up for the chance to bed fame?
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