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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Family & Friends
- Subject: Death / Heartbreak / Loss
- Published: 09/11/2012
A Letter To A Friend
Born 1978, F, from Vancouver, WA, United States![A Letter To A Friend](/storage/story/1347487694jericho sinclair2-image(208x285-crop).jpg)
Remember when life was fun, and everyone seemed to love us? Now it's over and I don't know how to move on. I remember all the fun stuff we did together, and it's not like we're not friends anymore, it's just that we have separate lives now, as it should be. But I miss it all terribly. People look at me with their fake smiles and I hear nothing but the cheesy lines that all of them say to me.
You know one benefit of our success was that I learned to tell fakes from real people without them even opening their mouths. It doesn't matter who they are or what language they speak, I can tell the moment I make eye contact if they are a fake or real.
I have this to say, that 99.9% of people are fakes. If there is a real person out there, I have yet to meet them. You are real, but you were with me on that wild ride. It's not that I hate fans, of course I don't.
One of the perks of meeting lots of new people is to maybe find a friend once in a while; but every time I meet a new person they only want something from me. I don't mind giving things like pictures and autographs, but my human soul still searches for something deeper that I know a star-struck fan will never be able to give.
You know that connection that two strangers make when they meet for the first time, without any preconceived ideas about each other? I miss that, but I still hold out for hope to find it again. My tender heart still looks deep into the eyes of each new person I meet in hopes that this one will not put up that fake wall and block any attempt at a real connection.
I lay here alone in my room, and what did I get for all of this fame and fortune? Just pain and misery. I am still in a bedroom staring at the ceiling like when I was a kid. Does it matter that it’s bigger or I have more expensive toys? I could call one of my 20,000+ fake friends on my list and I am sure they would hang out with me, not because they care about me, but only because they could brag about it later.
It's not fun anymore. I was an innocent kid when this all began. When I first came here, I had no idea then how this fame machine would chew me up and spit me out an old man in the matter of a couple of years. The fun parts were in hanging out with you and the others. We were all in this together like a crazy little family.
I clung to you like a brother; and you took me under your wing and protected me. I felt safe with you. I don't think I could have come out alive if it had not been for you being by my side through it all. I can't even visit you now without someone writing up an article or printing our pictures together like it's some goddamned movie we're doing.
When our project ended I was so scared. I never told anyone this before, but I was terrified as the end of our group approached. I knew what we had wouldn’t last forever, but I was terrified that the security I felt in our little group was going to leave me. I never had much of a family growing up, but when we were all together, I got to feel like a part of a family. I was scared to lose that.
You were like the big brother, S.C. was like our dad; Lil, the mother; G. and Steve were the annoying mischievous little brothers; D. was like the overbearing sister. How many times did D call us both out for being late? She was serious; none of us would have dared to cross her. I still respect her for it; she kept us on task.
I don't understand how it all happened in the first place. I know I am talented but no more than anyone else; there are many people far more talented than me, but somehow I won the psycho lottery I guess. As you can see, I still have a hard time moving on. I know you have new projects that look really exciting. I envy you because I can't seem to do anything new. It’s not that I don’t try; it’s just that I don’t feel motivated to start something that will leave me so empty again.
I know I said fans are fake, but that‘s not true for all of them. What I mean is there is no connection with “real” people anymore. Once someone looks at me as “the celebrity” they can never see me for me, like someone who knew me before all of this. I look into the eyes of everyone I meet and it's all the same, they see my image and not the real me.
I know I said the fame industry machine chewed me up and spit me out an old man: well, that's only half true. Inside I have hardly changed at all. I am still the scared kid with a tender heart, who desperately searches for friends in this world.
I just get disappointed every time I think I have met someone special and then their eyes glaze over in a star-struck stupor when they recognize me. I keep up a smile but my heart bleeds inside every time. I give them what they want: a picture, a few lines, but I am fast losing hope that I can find anyone real.
You know what I look for? I look for someone to engage me in conversation about something other than the things that made me famous. I don't mind if they mention that's how they know me, but I don‘t want to only talk about me.
When you meet a new person, you start a conversation to learn about each other. They ask questions, I tell them about me and they tell me about themselves: that's how it is suppose to go. But I don't get that anymore! Even when they do tell me about themselves it’s either star-struck frazzled non-sense or a sales pitch.
I still dream about meeting someone who will talk to me about what they do for a living without it sounding like a cheesy sales pitch for a product they want me to promote. I know I sound like a jackass; I guess I am kind of whining a bit here, but you know how I feel, you get the same thing with people.
There is no actor alive that could slip a disguised sales pitch to me; I can even tell if someone singing next to me in an elevator is directed at me or not. I don't mind listening to a sales pitch in the right environment. I know people struggle, like we did once, to make their way in life, and in me they see a short cut to success.
What if I did take interest in them and fulfill their every desire, where would that leave me? They would use me and move on once they got what they wanted. That's what many have done to me when I was too innocent to know this game.
I will keep searching; maybe I will find someone true and honest. A hard working soul that will just sit with me in silence; can anyone just hang out with me and have fun without it being about anything? I guess I am looking for more of what we had as friends back before all of this got crazy. Maybe you are the only real friend I will ever have.
I know you're going to write me back and call me out on all of this, but I can't help how I feel. If I am wrong, I know I can trust you to tell me so, and get me back on track. That's why I come to you with these things; you are the one person I know I can count on to be 100% real with me. I love you like my brother for it.
Mike
A Letter To A Friend(Kiann Ann)
Remember when life was fun, and everyone seemed to love us? Now it's over and I don't know how to move on. I remember all the fun stuff we did together, and it's not like we're not friends anymore, it's just that we have separate lives now, as it should be. But I miss it all terribly. People look at me with their fake smiles and I hear nothing but the cheesy lines that all of them say to me.
You know one benefit of our success was that I learned to tell fakes from real people without them even opening their mouths. It doesn't matter who they are or what language they speak, I can tell the moment I make eye contact if they are a fake or real.
I have this to say, that 99.9% of people are fakes. If there is a real person out there, I have yet to meet them. You are real, but you were with me on that wild ride. It's not that I hate fans, of course I don't.
One of the perks of meeting lots of new people is to maybe find a friend once in a while; but every time I meet a new person they only want something from me. I don't mind giving things like pictures and autographs, but my human soul still searches for something deeper that I know a star-struck fan will never be able to give.
You know that connection that two strangers make when they meet for the first time, without any preconceived ideas about each other? I miss that, but I still hold out for hope to find it again. My tender heart still looks deep into the eyes of each new person I meet in hopes that this one will not put up that fake wall and block any attempt at a real connection.
I lay here alone in my room, and what did I get for all of this fame and fortune? Just pain and misery. I am still in a bedroom staring at the ceiling like when I was a kid. Does it matter that it’s bigger or I have more expensive toys? I could call one of my 20,000+ fake friends on my list and I am sure they would hang out with me, not because they care about me, but only because they could brag about it later.
It's not fun anymore. I was an innocent kid when this all began. When I first came here, I had no idea then how this fame machine would chew me up and spit me out an old man in the matter of a couple of years. The fun parts were in hanging out with you and the others. We were all in this together like a crazy little family.
I clung to you like a brother; and you took me under your wing and protected me. I felt safe with you. I don't think I could have come out alive if it had not been for you being by my side through it all. I can't even visit you now without someone writing up an article or printing our pictures together like it's some goddamned movie we're doing.
When our project ended I was so scared. I never told anyone this before, but I was terrified as the end of our group approached. I knew what we had wouldn’t last forever, but I was terrified that the security I felt in our little group was going to leave me. I never had much of a family growing up, but when we were all together, I got to feel like a part of a family. I was scared to lose that.
You were like the big brother, S.C. was like our dad; Lil, the mother; G. and Steve were the annoying mischievous little brothers; D. was like the overbearing sister. How many times did D call us both out for being late? She was serious; none of us would have dared to cross her. I still respect her for it; she kept us on task.
I don't understand how it all happened in the first place. I know I am talented but no more than anyone else; there are many people far more talented than me, but somehow I won the psycho lottery I guess. As you can see, I still have a hard time moving on. I know you have new projects that look really exciting. I envy you because I can't seem to do anything new. It’s not that I don’t try; it’s just that I don’t feel motivated to start something that will leave me so empty again.
I know I said fans are fake, but that‘s not true for all of them. What I mean is there is no connection with “real” people anymore. Once someone looks at me as “the celebrity” they can never see me for me, like someone who knew me before all of this. I look into the eyes of everyone I meet and it's all the same, they see my image and not the real me.
I know I said the fame industry machine chewed me up and spit me out an old man: well, that's only half true. Inside I have hardly changed at all. I am still the scared kid with a tender heart, who desperately searches for friends in this world.
I just get disappointed every time I think I have met someone special and then their eyes glaze over in a star-struck stupor when they recognize me. I keep up a smile but my heart bleeds inside every time. I give them what they want: a picture, a few lines, but I am fast losing hope that I can find anyone real.
You know what I look for? I look for someone to engage me in conversation about something other than the things that made me famous. I don't mind if they mention that's how they know me, but I don‘t want to only talk about me.
When you meet a new person, you start a conversation to learn about each other. They ask questions, I tell them about me and they tell me about themselves: that's how it is suppose to go. But I don't get that anymore! Even when they do tell me about themselves it’s either star-struck frazzled non-sense or a sales pitch.
I still dream about meeting someone who will talk to me about what they do for a living without it sounding like a cheesy sales pitch for a product they want me to promote. I know I sound like a jackass; I guess I am kind of whining a bit here, but you know how I feel, you get the same thing with people.
There is no actor alive that could slip a disguised sales pitch to me; I can even tell if someone singing next to me in an elevator is directed at me or not. I don't mind listening to a sales pitch in the right environment. I know people struggle, like we did once, to make their way in life, and in me they see a short cut to success.
What if I did take interest in them and fulfill their every desire, where would that leave me? They would use me and move on once they got what they wanted. That's what many have done to me when I was too innocent to know this game.
I will keep searching; maybe I will find someone true and honest. A hard working soul that will just sit with me in silence; can anyone just hang out with me and have fun without it being about anything? I guess I am looking for more of what we had as friends back before all of this got crazy. Maybe you are the only real friend I will ever have.
I know you're going to write me back and call me out on all of this, but I can't help how I feel. If I am wrong, I know I can trust you to tell me so, and get me back on track. That's why I come to you with these things; you are the one person I know I can count on to be 100% real with me. I love you like my brother for it.
Mike
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