Forgone Youth

I turn the pages of the newspaper, decorated with stars & starlets of the tinsel town. I too was one of them, though, before the advent of such media furore. Every single small act in privy or public by these actors are written about in full detail. I detest it but so I crave for such attention.I seem to pity the stars of the decade for their lack of privacy and the sheer discomfort of media intrusion at all times but seldom do I realize that I don't pity them , I pity myself , for I am not subjected to such fandom anymore. I am old, very old, so old that I have forgotten certain fragments of my own life. Maybe in a years time, I will forget a bit more of my being but  what I can never forget is the essence of being a hero to the masses , though a reel hero but a hero nonetheless.

I feel the fine wrinkles and loose skin on my neck, in stark contrast to the perfectly done faces that stare me from the tabloids. I wish the curse of old age falls on them too, which surely will, eventually.They will also be secluded and made to rot in misery and penury. A charming face can sustain you for how long!.

I don't click my photographs anymore, I hate how I look now. My fragile figure , wrinkled skin and bald head is laughed upon , by others as well as by me. Ah! what a plebe I was to think I was omnipotent.

Thoughts of suicide fills me with hope. Irony much?. But then the reality hits me hard, what is the point of killing myself now when my image has been tarnished already. I should have killed myself in my youth, at the prime of my thriving career.To go down the pages of history as a figure of reverence and adulation. Alas! , Its all too late. I have to live the remainder of my life as it is, as a pariah. Old , lost & forgotten.