You say you want to be famous. A famous actor, musician, poet or artist. What is this thing we call fame? Is it merely being widely known? Is it being admired by many people? Is it wealth? Is stepping into the club with your posse and having everybody notice you? Is it bowing to a packed house after a tremendous performance?
What does all of this acclaim really mean to you? People telling you how wonderful you are. People wanting to be near you. People wanting things from you.
How much reinforcement does our ego need? Have you noticed that many people who actively seek fame soon sour on it? Have you seen how many people who achieve fame seem to be devoured by it? Michael Jackson, Heath Ledger, Kurt Cobain, Ernest Hemingway all had fame and it ate them from the inside like a cancer.
What about the people who become addicted to fame and then lose it only to become pathetic ghosts of former stars? Fame is fickle. Fame loves youth and despises age. Fame has an ugly side. We love to see our tin gods fall from the sky. Lord help you if you get drunk and go on a tirade, gain weight or have a couple of flops in a row. They will turn upon you like a pack of vicious hounds and tear you to bits. Fame is not love it is fools gold, shiny but worthless.
Fame is a prison that you build for yourself.