My parents said that I could be anything I wanted to be. Little did they realize that I wanted to be the “next big thing.” I wanted to be that pop star that everyone was talking about, the singer everyone wanted to date. I wanted to be a somebody. Center stage has called to me since my youth; seriously, I frequently upstaged people in school productions just because I liked the attention. I crave the audience’s applause. When they cheer, it is my name I want them to be cheering. I dream of standing on a big stage, my face illuminated by the bright lights, with an enthusiastic audience singing the lyrics with me.
Thankfully, I have some musical talents. I was in marching band for all of middle school- trombone. Three years of unmitigated musical experience has left me feeling pretty confident about my ability to be a musician. Although I cannot play a wide variety of instruments, I do have wonderful stage presence and great looks; also, my singing voice is not really all that bad. I frequently serenade people, and I do so without any auto-tuning.
I have personality, and personality will get you far in the music industry. Being larger than life and loving those fans with the crazed, obsessive look in their eyes will take me to the top. While other musicians might seek solace and refuge in their secret lives, I will be out there for all the world to see, my dirty laundry flapping in the breeze. Let the press contort my image; the fans will love me anyway. If I do something that would normally be frowned upon, my adoring fans will gush about what a “rebel” I am and how that adds to my overall appeal. I will be the center of attention across the globe.
The fame, the fortune, the fans- why would I not want to be a musician? I can see myself riding from Westchester to New York City in a stretch limo only to get out to thousands of screaming fans who are all dying to be within my vicinity. They are pleading for a picture while some of these obsessed fans just want me to talk to them. They wave at me and shout out wild confessions of love and admiration. They want me.
My face will be taped to their walls, crammed into their lockers, and inked on their shirts all because they love me and my music. Anything and everything I sing will be golden because it is coming from me, their idol. To be a famous musician would be to unlock the many pleasures this world has to offer. Why should I not dream of something so great?