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April 13, 2011

Sometimes I feel as though the one thing we can never experience, no matter how much money we have, no matter how successful we are at a given trade—we can never truly understand what it feels like to be on stage, as the center of attention, with thousands upon thousands of people focused entirely on you, basking in the glory of your music that you created.

Not to sound cliche, but it truly must be the ultimate high.

Is it narcissism?

Uh, probably, but who cares?

However, this is why I worry about Justin Bieber. In all likelihood, he’s either already hit his “peak” or will have within the next few years. I mean, the kid has already sold out Madison Square Garden…

So does he have nowhere to go but down?

Is this why so many child stars turn to drugs? To try to replace the high of just owning the moment, of being on stage in front of thousands of screaming fans, all yelling at you, for you, because they want you, oh they love you and worship you and pay money to see you and would kill to touch you—and if you bring them on stage and kiss them on the cheek ohmygodtheymighthaveaheartattack.

Sometimes I wish that could be me. Sometimes I wish I could be Robbie Williams performing at Knebworth in front of 375,000 people, ripping off air guitar chords, pumping my fist in the air—LET’S GO—holding my arms out to embrace the shouts and cries and cheers of pure unfiltered adulation and love.


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