For a while, it was all fun. The lights, the cameras, the action and raucous cheers of those who came to watch you perform gave you a reason to get up every evening. “Fantasia”, they all call you, and you feel like you definitely made the name for yourself. No troll, in your opinion, could dance like you, sing like you, or even act like you. You were in a league all your own, unparalleled, a true, triple-threat masterpiece... but you suppose that it can’t last forever.

It’s not your fans. You know you wouldn’t be where you are without them, and you appreciate how supportive they’ve been of you. The problem, unfortunately, is you. You’re just getting to that point in your life where you want to just settle down and live life a little more quietly. Maybe you could go somewhere and live life as an average troll, or maybe you could take a chance on some aspiring little upstart and give them a boost. After all, who wouldn’t want to learn from you?

Of course, there’s still the problem with trolls recognizing you. You feel like you haven’t had a moment’s privacy in sweeps, what with the troll paparazzi tailing you and all. Don’t they have anything better to do than stalk you? You may be a big deal and all, but you’d still gladly do with the space from them.

You sigh to yourself as you enter your dressing room and begin to disrobe, quickly swapping out your flashy, sequined show-dress for a far more unassuming, yet still accentuating, number. It’ll at least do for the after-party you’ve been invited to attend. Those are usually nice, at least. Maybe this one will actually lift your spirits. You’re just in a funk, there’s no way you would actually leave everything behind to start over new... would you?

It’s a burning question as you wash away the borderline gaudy stage make-up and replace it with a sparkly jade lipstick and eyeshadow. A bit of glitter here and there, ensuring that your hair is still neat and tidy, and you’re ready to go, but your mind is racing somewhat. What DO you want out of this?

It’s a fun life, but a lonely life. At least you could say that the fans bring good to that lonely life, though. You mean it when you look them in the eyes and tell them that you would be nothing without their love. When they cheer, you feel the rush, and it’s amazing. To a degree, you’ve felt like maybe you’ve been always destined to end up in this place. On the other, however, it’s a different story.

You feel like maybe you’ve been in the burning lights for too long. You swear you can feel your soul burning even if it is slow. You love it, but part of you loathes how you crave for it. You crave it as if it’s... addiction? Is that what this is about? No, it can’t be. You will be many things, but you are not a prisoner to this ‘addiction.’ You are not addicted to a life that, outside of the socialite aspects, just feels empty and cold. This was your decision, and you are certainly not a prisoner to it.