for as much as anyone on the outside could see,
he was doing incredible!
his work was everywhere
but nowhere at the same time...
so from where he sat, he wasn't doing incredible at all.
he always laughed when someone who recognized his name
would gasp in delight,
but then he'd get upset in the same second
wondering why people who could hire him
didn't seem to share that same delight.
it was complex,
it was typical.
it was the way of the world.
those who he brought joy to
could do nothing back for him,
and those who he needed to put food on the table
were either closeted fans
or scared shitless of him.
it's just how things went, usually.
and as much as he tried to make everyone see that he had changed, grown and matured,
become even better at his craft, gotten wiser and endured,
still they remembered only stories
of the boy who went insane.