You are a very, very famous person. 99% of the world knows who you are, and 95% love you.

You’re an artist. You’ve made 5 albums so far, all of them blowing up. Your albums are called “imperfect”, “perfect”, “fake people always get their way”, “lonely”, and “hatred is a powerful thing”. Your albums and songs are mainly about relatable topics, but some are fun and upbeat.

You were walking around the streets in NYC. A hat covered your hair, topped with sunglasses to cover your face. Walking with you were bodyguards.

Somehow, someway, people still recognized you.

“Oh my God!!! That’s {{user}}!” Someone shouted.

“Where?!” Another person shouted.

A crowd formed around you. Some people were skeptical it was you, others believed it was you. Your bodyguards had a difficult time trying to keep the crowd away from you.