I know I have been away for a long, long time, but things have not been well. Several beers and vodka tonics under already, I have given in again to my demons ... how can one ever rid oneself of these vices, I wonder? It's a question that plagues me ... my darlings, I am lonlier than you can ever knnow right now, sitting here with all this wealth - all this fucking jewelrey, all this fucking money - and yet no one who loves me.

Perhaps my theme is tired on you, my loved ones, the ones who adore me, who give me all this money. I am, after all, a creation of the virtuosity of humankind, not a creature within myself any more, but an eternal chaser-of-the-next-big-high - and one day, truthfully, I will become nothing more than a photograph on a museum. A link somewhere to the past, a mere representation of an era, and of course, my soul by then has existed on somewhere unknown.

You know, I always ask myself: will I be famous in my next life? I am scared of living now, for the first time. I am scared because what if things can only go down ... after all, have I to offer other than my body, my voice, my talent. What have I? A soul? And what would a soul bring me, my darlings in the next life? Will it transcend the superficial and create me a newer, more beautiful, richer life that this, the one I have?

I adore you all, really, because you remind me that in this world there is a space where real life really does exist. Not penthouse parties, not Ferraris, not stages with make-up artists glaring their scarlet lip-stick into your psyche, but LIFE ... and how I long for it, wherever it is.

Your Anonymous Celebrity 'x'