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“Even a little bit of fame can mess with your head. It’s a cognitive disease, you know? Fame. It used to only be for royalty and we know what they’re like. I’m not much of a Freudian, but something about fame makes the ID and the Superego devour the Ego like an anacondas in a cage, right before they cannibalize each other. Fame warps your identity, metastasizes your anxieties and hollows you out like a jack-o-lantern. It’s sparkly pixy dust that burns whatever it touches like acid.” — Elan Mastai
Even a little bit of fame can mess with your head. It’s a cognitive disease, you know? Fame. It used to only be for royalty and we know what they’re like. I’m not much of a Freudian, but something about fame makes the ID and the Superego devour the Ego like an anacondas in a cage, right before they cannibalize each other. Fame warps your identity, metastasizes your anxieties and hollows you out like a jack-o-lantern. It’s sparkly pixy dust that burns whatever it touches like acid.