Everyone wants to be a celebrity. Everyone wants the attention…the fame. All people want these days is to belong to someone or something. They want to belong to everything but themselves. It’s unbelievable. Being a celebrity is not everything that people think. How about being yourself?
Dreams fill in our lives with sweet fibers, weaving to and fro, holding together the mess which forms to create our days, our weeks, our lives.
Celebrity sound so similar to celebration, but I’m not sure if being celebrated for being a celebrity is even a thing which should be done. Being a celebrity seemed so glamorous. Now? I suppose everything loses it’s shine.
The nightclub was hot, sticky, and I felt on the verge of being claustrophobic. This was not my scene, whatsoever. As I stalked through the mass of dancers and ‘suave’ male peacocks, I noticed this face that I’d never seen in person, but yet, I recognized.
I realized exactly who he was once I accidentally knocked my elbow into his ribs, causing a series of domino reactions, one person struggling with their drinks after another- it was quite comical.
My god. It was Lawrence Bradly. I had just watched him on TV this morning… The only difference was he was drenched, and angry.
Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. There was never enough time to drag yourself into a pair of heels sharp enough to end up with bloody ankles. You were always on the edge of running out of the limo, one shoe barely on, already the plastic digging into your soft flesh.
dfnkmdnfkjdla;jklaj jd I jikda ojd kd jdlanekl ke never have i even seen a person as beautfiul as that person over there they have a nice face and a nice nose. i hope they do well in life.
Blood-tipped halos peaking
mortal heads and mortal hearts,
but giving illusion where illusions
count, and where faking is the only
viable option in reply to the confines
of reality.
She gained a certain degree of celebrity in her neighbourhood, which meant that even putting out the trash was an exercise in public relations. Her tendency to forget to put on pants therefore became a bit of a problem.
i don’t think i’d ever really like to be a celebrity- i mean, the fame might be nice but i wouldn’t like all the attention and the cameras in my face all the time. also, i have stage freight so that wouldn’t work. though i do think that it’d be cool to know who actually likes me- how many people i will get in my following. who’s role model i’d become.
“Hey! I’m Jack Tunnels and I’m about to sing my hit song “Shadows” thousands of people scream in excitement. I frown slightly and sigh but then put on my fake smile again and start singing. After I’m done I go behind stage.
“What’s wrong Jack? You go back in five…” One of my directors tell me.
I sigh “I guess I’m not really feeling it. I’m so tired of everything today. Sorry, I’ll be good.”
I pulled my hood up and took a peek around the corner. I didn’t see anybody so I darted forwards and turned the corner. Quickly. “HEY! There she is!” I heard. “Shit…” I muttered and started running.
Celebrity? I Don’t know much about celebrities. They seem stuck up and horribly destructive no matter which path they take. 60 seconds to be a celebrity…..
When I became a celebrity, I died. The person who I was no longer existed. My name became what every other person in the world said my name was, and not the true essence of who I was.
“I’m a celebrity here? Why am I a celebrity here?”
“They heard all about what you did to that one bitchy customer,” Harriet replied with a smile, undoing the fraying knot that held her apron against the curved part of his back. “You know, the one who always cut in line and claimed the manager was an ugly dyke? She hasn’t been back since. You’re a hero here.”
“Huh.” I pursed my lips. “Does that mean I get a hero’s discount now every time I want a bowl of noodles?”
Flaunt everything you’ve got. Sing them songs of romance, write them stories of inspiration, show them movies of adventure. Stride on velvet carpets with long, exposing dresses and deceiving tuxedos and laugh a fake laugh when they tell you a joke, don’t forget to smile for the camera. You are Hollywood’s cover, you are an image of perfection (picture Tom Hiddleston), and you are JUST an image.
Celebrity. Well, I don’t know. What about them? They’re famous. People look at them as plastic people…. unreal. Unemotional. They believe celebrities are perfect. I mean, they’re people, just like us. Yeah, they star in movies. Yeah, they’re idols for absolutely everything we see. But come on now. Celebrities? They’re people too.
She said it didn’t matter who it was or what she looked like. He got it, he said. No, he didn’t. The dog spun in circles before sitting down. The TV was still on and he glanced at it, suggesting that maybe a bit of a nudge down on the volume might lead to less shouting. It didn’t.
there are many celebrities that we know nothing about and yet there are others that we know too much about. How do some avoid the ugly spotlight while others are forced below it. Every day we see pictures of them in their eyery day lives. How annoying would it be if people took pictures of you when you needed to grab some milk at the grocery store on a sleepy saturday when you dont feel like even getting dressed.
“You can say that my celebrity is all luck, but that’s mostly just what the people who hate me say. I got here by pure talent, damn you, and you’d be better off to remember it! I worked from the bottom up for this! So you leave me the hell alone.”
Look at her fabulous hair, white teeth, flawless skin, damn celebrities have all the perks. Being rich is one thing but when you’re a celebrity you have the looks that go along with that fame and fortune.
okay so really like
i would like to be a celebrity maybe
but not
i just dont know
celebrity is cool but
responsibility.
i mean. im not supposed to think but i dont know
The spotlight shines with the intensity of a helicopter searchlight, and my vision is skewed. The audience is nothing but one giant spot of shimmering white. Standing here, the hand of anxiety twisting my gut like a washing machine, I know what it feels like to be you.
Who cares? I can be one too. Anyone can. What makes a celebrity? Popularity? Attractiveness? Kindness and compassion. That’s all you need and all you will ever need.
A small rock spawned, as out of nowhere, and struck him right in his whiskers.
Such a sad day for Christiany, said a bystander.
It had gone right through the white, smoking chimney.
And hit the Pope.
Famous and fabulous. Everyone is so obsessed with them. Their clothes, what they eat, where they go… Cameras following them everywhere. But what makes them so special? Why movie actors? TV stars? What makes them so much more fabulous than everyday people?
She got up to the stage and laughed as the crowd went wild.
“This?” She looked around. “This is what you want?”
The crowd quieted.
“You are the ones that choose who becomes famous. Who’s successful. We used to worship gods, deities, spirits….but me? Is this what passes for a goddess these days?”
I guess it doesn’t take much nowadays to be called a celebrity when people like the Kardashians are included. I must be sounding ancient, but it used to be that true movie stars and famous singers were the celebrities as well as a small spattering of athletes. Seems all it takes now is a sex tape leaked to the press by your mother…..with your full consent and approval of course.
Why do we love them? Why do we worship them? Are we really unhappy with ourselves? Maybe.
Some are inspiring but most, I simply don’t care about. It’s not harsh. Just realistic.
She moved with alacrity through the love of the mirthful crowds and city. She glittered and did not shine. Pity, I think the word they used, that her celestial beauty fell prematurely from the vine. No seed came of the fruit of her brief and luminous levity; her withered icon fallen, in the end, her life another elegy.
Celebreties. They come and go. Some stay longer, some don’t. I really feel like there shouldn’t only be a few. After all we are all people. We aren’t the same. but were pretty much equal.
Everyone wants to be a celebrity. Everyone wants the attention…the fame. All people want these days is to belong to someone or something. They want to belong to everything but themselves. It’s unbelievable. Being a celebrity is not everything that people think. How about being yourself?
Dreams fill in our lives with sweet fibers, weaving to and fro, holding together the mess which forms to create our days, our weeks, our lives.
Celebrity sound so similar to celebration, but I’m not sure if being celebrated for being a celebrity is even a thing which should be done. Being a celebrity seemed so glamorous. Now? I suppose everything loses it’s shine.
i’ve always dreamed of being a celebrity
i’m studying theatre
but i know i’ll never get there
not at my weight
that’s a tad dramatic
and mean
The nightclub was hot, sticky, and I felt on the verge of being claustrophobic. This was not my scene, whatsoever. As I stalked through the mass of dancers and ‘suave’ male peacocks, I noticed this face that I’d never seen in person, but yet, I recognized.
I realized exactly who he was once I accidentally knocked my elbow into his ribs, causing a series of domino reactions, one person struggling with their drinks after another- it was quite comical.
My god. It was Lawrence Bradly. I had just watched him on TV this morning… The only difference was he was drenched, and angry.
People want be
But the big baggage
Isn’t all that
Worthwhile.
Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. There was never enough time to drag yourself into a pair of heels sharp enough to end up with bloody ankles. You were always on the edge of running out of the limo, one shoe barely on, already the plastic digging into your soft flesh.
manufactured
boldly branded
they wore their labels proudly
always decorated with vivid colours
paint strokes
and coverings
one often forgot
they were human
too
A personae who is famous or has a job as a superstar. They can get out of controls sometimes but they can be pretty or handsome.
dfnkmdnfkjdla;jklaj jd I jikda ojd kd jdlanekl ke never have i even seen a person as beautfiul as that person over there they have a nice face and a nice nose. i hope they do well in life.
Blood-tipped halos peaking
mortal heads and mortal hearts,
but giving illusion where illusions
count, and where faking is the only
viable option in reply to the confines
of reality.
I’d rather stay dreaming.
She gained a certain degree of celebrity in her neighbourhood, which meant that even putting out the trash was an exercise in public relations. Her tendency to forget to put on pants therefore became a bit of a problem.
i don’t think i’d ever really like to be a celebrity- i mean, the fame might be nice but i wouldn’t like all the attention and the cameras in my face all the time. also, i have stage freight so that wouldn’t work. though i do think that it’d be cool to know who actually likes me- how many people i will get in my following. who’s role model i’d become.
“Hey! I’m Jack Tunnels and I’m about to sing my hit song “Shadows” thousands of people scream in excitement. I frown slightly and sigh but then put on my fake smile again and start singing. After I’m done I go behind stage.
“What’s wrong Jack? You go back in five…” One of my directors tell me.
I sigh “I guess I’m not really feeling it. I’m so tired of everything today. Sorry, I’ll be good.”
I pulled my hood up and took a peek around the corner. I didn’t see anybody so I darted forwards and turned the corner. Quickly. “HEY! There she is!” I heard. “Shit…” I muttered and started running.
Celebrity? I Don’t know much about celebrities. They seem stuck up and horribly destructive no matter which path they take. 60 seconds to be a celebrity…..
When I became a celebrity, I died. The person who I was no longer existed. My name became what every other person in the world said my name was, and not the true essence of who I was.
fame money fortune darling
pilates and chelsea heels
the heartthrobs are heartbroken and
wailing for the ail to celebrity
“I’m a celebrity here? Why am I a celebrity here?”
“They heard all about what you did to that one bitchy customer,” Harriet replied with a smile, undoing the fraying knot that held her apron against the curved part of his back. “You know, the one who always cut in line and claimed the manager was an ugly dyke? She hasn’t been back since. You’re a hero here.”
“Huh.” I pursed my lips. “Does that mean I get a hero’s discount now every time I want a bowl of noodles?”
Flaunt everything you’ve got. Sing them songs of romance, write them stories of inspiration, show them movies of adventure. Stride on velvet carpets with long, exposing dresses and deceiving tuxedos and laugh a fake laugh when they tell you a joke, don’t forget to smile for the camera. You are Hollywood’s cover, you are an image of perfection (picture Tom Hiddleston), and you are JUST an image.
Are they really extra special? Could anyone be a celebrity. We think there the best, but aren’t they really just normal people who need love?
Celebrity. Well, I don’t know. What about them? They’re famous. People look at them as plastic people…. unreal. Unemotional. They believe celebrities are perfect. I mean, they’re people, just like us. Yeah, they star in movies. Yeah, they’re idols for absolutely everything we see. But come on now. Celebrities? They’re people too.
Can I have your autograph? So what is it like to be famous?.” The questions they never stop asking!
She said it didn’t matter who it was or what she looked like. He got it, he said. No, he didn’t. The dog spun in circles before sitting down. The TV was still on and he glanced at it, suggesting that maybe a bit of a nudge down on the volume might lead to less shouting. It didn’t.
naturally, the last thing I ever really wanted to be was a celebrity
but there are kids who fit in and there are kids who stand out and then there is me
an outsider, but not a particularly welcomed one
and I know I can become whatever I want to but what do I want to become? and I wonder
would it be so bad if everyone knew who I was?
I don’t know a thing.
there are many celebrities that we know nothing about and yet there are others that we know too much about. How do some avoid the ugly spotlight while others are forced below it. Every day we see pictures of them in their eyery day lives. How annoying would it be if people took pictures of you when you needed to grab some milk at the grocery store on a sleepy saturday when you dont feel like even getting dressed.
“You can say that my celebrity is all luck, but that’s mostly just what the people who hate me say. I got here by pure talent, damn you, and you’d be better off to remember it! I worked from the bottom up for this! So you leave me the hell alone.”
Look at her fabulous hair, white teeth, flawless skin, damn celebrities have all the perks. Being rich is one thing but when you’re a celebrity you have the looks that go along with that fame and fortune.
okay so really like
i would like to be a celebrity maybe
but not
i just dont know
celebrity is cool but
responsibility.
i mean. im not supposed to think but i dont know
The spotlight shines with the intensity of a helicopter searchlight, and my vision is skewed. The audience is nothing but one giant spot of shimmering white. Standing here, the hand of anxiety twisting my gut like a washing machine, I know what it feels like to be you.
Who cares? I can be one too. Anyone can. What makes a celebrity? Popularity? Attractiveness? Kindness and compassion. That’s all you need and all you will ever need.
A small rock spawned, as out of nowhere, and struck him right in his whiskers.
Such a sad day for Christiany, said a bystander.
It had gone right through the white, smoking chimney.
And hit the Pope.
Famous and fabulous. Everyone is so obsessed with them. Their clothes, what they eat, where they go… Cameras following them everywhere. But what makes them so special? Why movie actors? TV stars? What makes them so much more fabulous than everyday people?
She got up to the stage and laughed as the crowd went wild.
“This?” She looked around. “This is what you want?”
The crowd quieted.
“You are the ones that choose who becomes famous. Who’s successful. We used to worship gods, deities, spirits….but me? Is this what passes for a goddess these days?”
Known for repeating the words strung by others.
I do not seek fame;
too shiny, too hideous for me.
I’m just looking forward to a new beginning,
a new bright sun will rise over the golden hills.
I can not see forward anything
but my dream;
my eyes are shut down in front of the lonely road.
I believe and I will do it.
Even if it costs anger&strength.
celebrity shouldn’t only be for famous people because shouldn’t it be for a person we celebrate?
I celebrate you.
I guess it doesn’t take much nowadays to be called a celebrity when people like the Kardashians are included. I must be sounding ancient, but it used to be that true movie stars and famous singers were the celebrities as well as a small spattering of athletes. Seems all it takes now is a sex tape leaked to the press by your mother…..with your full consent and approval of course.
Why do we love them? Why do we worship them? Are we really unhappy with ourselves? Maybe.
Some are inspiring but most, I simply don’t care about. It’s not harsh. Just realistic.
She moved with alacrity through the love of the mirthful crowds and city. She glittered and did not shine. Pity, I think the word they used, that her celestial beauty fell prematurely from the vine. No seed came of the fruit of her brief and luminous levity; her withered icon fallen, in the end, her life another elegy.
Celebreties. They come and go. Some stay longer, some don’t. I really feel like there shouldn’t only be a few. After all we are all people. We aren’t the same. but were pretty much equal.