Sometimes he just wondered why he did what he did, and this was one of those times.  He just couldn’t seem to remember anymore why he was here.  In yet another city, another hotel room, another show with thousands of girls who didn’t know him, screaming that they loved him and that they wanted to have his children.  Why him?  What made him so special?  What was the friggin point?  He was nobody special, not really.  He could sing, big deal there were thousands of people who could sing just as well if not better than him.  He could dance, but only because they had the best choreographers that money could buy and he worked hard at it, plus it was easy, just copy the moves that others taught him. 

Lately he just felt like he was going through the motions.  Just doing what was expected of him, but not really feeling it at all.  Like he was just some puppet.  You know, the kind where you pull one string and the hand goes up?  Pull another and a leg goes up?  Yeah that was him.  When did he become this puppet?  Was it after the last girl left him?  Was it when he found out that she had been just using him for his name and his fame?  He had loved her, thought she was the one.  He had thought that she had loved him.  But it was all a lie, just a game to get what she wanted and when she did, she left, forever.  Leaving him alone in this cruel world where people pretended to like him just to get near his fame.  He was tired of that, tired of the whole game of pretending to like them back.  He was tired of pretending to be someone he wasn’t, some days he just wanted to scream out at the top of his lungs that he couldn’t take it any more, but he didn’t because he couldn’t.