The Icon

She was known for being sexy, whenever her name was mentioned that would be the first thing that came to mind. Sexy. Blond-haired and brown eyes, a great smile with the iconic mole drawn on her cheek. She was the definition of sexy. Women wanted to be her and men lusted after her. She was a star. She was considered to be the greatest.

But sadly it seemed like she was nothing more. Just a symbol of sexy. Society labeled her and put her in a box where she can be nothing more. They wanted her for her sexiness. Needed her even. She starred in movies where she played the typical cliché of a “ditzy” blonde whose beauty made her so adorable. But she was more than that—much more.

No one saw the pain that lay behind her eyes—or no one bothered to acknowledge it. She grew up in a variety of homes. Both parents lost so she felt nothing but neglect. What she longed for, what she hoped for, was love. There was a gaping hole inside of her that she desperately wanted to fill. She dreamed of a nuclear family. She dreamed of love.

She wanted to be taken seriously, so she often second guessed herself. She wanted her achievements to be based on her talents and not for sexiness. But it was getting too late for her. She was iconic. And she was iconic for her sexiness.

“Give us that sexy smile!”

“Give us those sexy eyes!”

“Blow us that sexy kiss!”

“Give us that sexy wink!”

“Give us that sexiness!”

“Give us that sexiness!”

That’s all they wanted from her. They never once said:

“Give us your talents.”

“Give us your thoughts.”

“Give us you.”

No one saw the pain that lay behind her eyes—or no one bothered to acknowledge it. She was an icon. Everyone saw her as a star, but her management and the people she worked with saw her as a profitable gain that needed to be controlled. No one understood her. And it seemed like no one wanted to.

She was an icon. Everyone loved her and yet no one really loved her. She was sad, hopeless, hurt. And she was beginning to lose her way. She never felt good enough—worthy. As she broke records in entertainment, she could barely make a record for herself. And as she searched for love, she barely felt confident with loving herself. So she tried numbing the pain. But no one saw the pain that lay behind her eyes—or no one bothered to acknowledge it.

She was the icon, but she was an unhappy one.

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