You begin to think the world's lost faith in you when they refer to you as a hopeless young hipbuckler. Another one of those musical talents gone down the drain smoking pot. Another one of those stupid druggies. But he didn't want to be one of those. He wanted to fall in love with some blonde and live unhappily ever after. Or was that the media talking again? Sometimes he couldn't tell whether or not his heart was speaking to him or if MTV was interviewing him.

Some days he would drive himself nuts looking into the mirror and seeing nothing but a pathetic man engulfed in tears and horribly ugly glitter suits. He'd become the man he was afraid to become, he'd become somewhat of an celebrity. Quite a well known one too. He had a girlfriend. She was blonde. She was busty. She was famous. She was who he thought he would grow to love and spend his life with. He also didn't want to smoke pot. He didn't want to be a druggie. He did't want to be a hopeless young hipbuckler. But that's who he was. That's who he was.

And then of course, there's that stupid little nagging question.

What's become of you, Mr. Timberlake?

Well, of course, things would have been fine, just FINE. Perfect. Flawless...

IF he knew the answer to his own question.

But, he didn't.