A rock star is someone who thrashes themselves emotionally, making each moment matter, someone who goes to every extreme for the thrill of feeling, the promise of acceptance, the holy grail of love. A rock star is someone who’s chosen to take the risks you never took. If they fail or falter, it’s still more of a show than you’ll ever manage to make. That’s why you love and loathe them so. They dare to be what you never had the courage to try.
Most rock stars burn brightly but quickly – too quickly – extinguishing themselves with the brightness and heat of their own flames. A rock star only knows how to burn. There’s nothing else.
And I, well, I did my best to be a rock star. I did it for you. I thought it was what you wanted. I believed that if I could make you remember me, your notice might make some sort of difference, that you would somehow make me matter. I wanted to leave an impression, to prove that I was here, to go unforgotten.
Perhaps I got carried away.
Perhaps the carefully-crafted myth took on a life of its own.
Perhaps I really did lose control.
I made you believe.
I made myself believe.
So much so that I almost forgot how I made the whole thing up.
At long last, the sad confession:
I made it all up.
A man can make himself quite lonely with the ghosts of make-believe, and the mirror is a two-faced trickster willing to whisper deliciously dangerous secrets to those who most want to pretend.
THE DELUSIONAL GRANDEUR TOUR: LAST STAND OF A ROCK STAR
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