He was exhausted... not physically, but mentally exhausted. Sometimes he wondered if he could handle everything anymore; the interviews, the photo shoots, the autograph sessions, the tour planning, the rehearsals, the voice strengthening lessons, the recording, the tutoring sessions... The list went on and on and on.

He needed a break. He needed time to spend with his family and friends. He needed to escape all the hype and hysteria surrounding him. But even if he were to get that much needed vacation, where would he go? He would be trapped inside of a house the whole time with nothing to do but sleep and eat. He wouldn't be able to go out and relax at a park, or go shopping for new sneakers at a strip mall, or even play basketball out on his front driveway. If he were to do that, he'd be mobbed by fans.

Ah yes, the fans. How you love your fans...they're the ones who helped you fulfill your dream, the ones who have never stopped supporting you, the ones who got you to where you are now... He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. Yet how can you love your fans when they are the ones who make it impossible to go out and act like the normal teenager you are? His fingers fisted through his hair angrily and he fought to swallow the lump in his throat.

"But you're not normal. You'll never be normal. Not for the rest of your life, not even after you're dead. They'll still know your name.", he spoke hoarsely to his reflection in the mirror. "You gave up being normal years ago. And for what? This?"

Gently, he tugged at his ripped sleeve, touching the deep gash on his arm left as a reminder of who he was in the public eye. Thanks to some overly excited young girls he would have that fingernail shaped scar on his arm forever.

Finally, he laid down on his bed, immediately falling into a fast sleep, dreaming of the day when his millions of admirers saw him for who he really was.... just Justin.