The Price of Fame

This whole Michael Jackson thing makes me a little sad. I think he was a pretty dark, twisted person with an enormous amount of talent. I can't really understand his life, although I'm sure in the coming weeks we'll learn more about his reclusive, strange side. I posted an older picture of Michael Jackson. Frankly, I find it hard to stomach pictures of him in recent years.

For a while, I'd like to think of him simply as the King of Pop. The man who could sell 50 million records. His music and his moves are timeless. It makes me think of my brother and I moonwalking across the kitchen tiles. Chris was always a much better moonwalker than I.

I've only drawn one conclusion from all of this. I don't really think people are meant for fame. At some point or another, we all seem to have a desire for fame because with it often comes fortune. But days like yesterday make me realize what fame costs. Happiness and satisfaction disappear. You can never have enough. And the word "no" no longer exists. There are no sincere relationships because you begin to wonder if people really like you for you.

I like that my life is simple. I like that my life has boundaries. Having anything and everything at your disposal isn't healthy. I think it cost Michael Jackson his life.