Being an entertainer plagues the heart. It almost consumes your every thought and idea. They masquerade unmercifully like a puppeteer controls each of their thousand strings. We sit back and question their every move, we become the first to bombard empathy, criticism, passion and hate towards their endeavors. We as the entertained, signed their death certificate the moment they graced the stage. Consuming our lives with theirs, we build this false pretense that they somehow must be better or held to a higher standard. Most of these individuals committed suicide long ago. They gave themselves to us to be torn apart and examined every second we wish to do so. We will sit back and ask why how their life cant be that bad forgetting that we hold the knife and that each flick of our wrist aids its further decent. These men and women have climbed from the depths to peaks. The loss of and entertainer is sad, but not for our selfish and cynical reasons. No it not because of their eating habits, or magizine covers,Their latest movie or album. Its not sad because we will never get to experience them again. Its sad because they were another lost soul that gave themselves away, and felt as if they had to take away themselves. As your head hangs in grief, know that each time the mentors and pioneers lay to rest, the beginning of a new is upon us. It is our responsibility to make sure not one more entertainer die in vein for our crimes. Shall we take what they give and not wish to bleed the that exact thing from them completely. A man is only worth himself, if you take that from him he is left with nothing.
Posted on: Tue, 12 Aug 2014 17:09:32 +0000
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