Love isn’t quite the best word. How can you love someone you don’t even know? Obsession, fantasy – these words fit much more snugly. And I admit, I’m guilty. I used to by magazines just because there was a teeny tiny blurb or picture about my latest crush. And I’m not talking about Tiger Beat or Seventeen. I’m in my 30s and should know better. But I don’t and I drop $5 here and there to get the latest article about my favorite celeb. I try to stick with “respectable” publications which claim not to use pictures snapped by paparazzi, but how do you know for sure? And when it comes to the articles, I often wonder how much is even true. Is the magazine embellishing or the star? They are entertainers after all, and I have to admit it might be amusing if I was famous to toss out a few whoppers. Yet that would be crummy right? Hmmmm… How crummy is it for someone to hide behind the garbage cans to snap pictures of you out for your morning jog? Or to chase you down the street?
Why do we have such an obsession with the rich and famous? They’re people just like you and me. Like it or not, we want what they have. We want to BE them. Or we might want to take them home with us…
This illusion has us fooled.
Say we did get this “thing” we want. Would it ever be enough?
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