BUBBLEGUM BITCH

"And the nominees for International Female Solo Artists are: Rihanna... Alicia Keys... Cat Power... Lana Del Rey... and Taylor Swift"

I sit in my seat shaking, afraid of everything. Afraid of losing to those most mainstream and overrated artists out there, afraid of winning and having to go up on stage in front of thousands of people and having to give a perfected acceptance speech. It seems like everything is to fear now in these next few moments.

As Sharon Osborne goes on a rant about Harry Style's genitalia, it feels like time stops. I feel my boyfriend's hand on mine, slowly tracing the outline of my "M" tattoo with the tips of his fingers. My heart beats faster as Sharon fumbles with the slip of paper that probably won't have my name on it.

Last year, I won a Brit Award for International Breakthrough Act. But that was last year, and that was when not so many people knew about me, that's when Born to Die was still a sensation. This is now, and although I just released a second album–which was technically a bonus album/follow up for Born to Die–it hasn't been getting the attention Born to Die has. In fact, over this past year, a lot of people have grown to hate me. They call me fake, plastic, an attention-whore, and spoiled. They say because my father is a successful investor, that all of my success was paid for by him. These ignorant people don't realize that Born to Die is my baby; I developed and created it all on my own. I was at the bottom of my life, I didn't have much money, didn't have a definite place to call home, and Born To Die was my last hope of success. If it failed, I'm not sure what/where I would be. So my success sure as hell didn't originate from my father's success; no, my success originated from my talent and quite honestly, my will to survive.

My train of thought is broken by a thundering roar from the crowd and a familiar song playing in the background, Ride. I take a deep breath and look around realizing that the next International Female Solo Artist was... Me? A big sigh of relief releases my anxiety, I look over and Barrie has the biggest grin on his face. I take my baby in my arms and kiss him, then I stand and hug my managers. As I make my way up to the stage however, the anxiety comes right back like an annoying ex-boyfriend. Except it was worse than before. I hate going on stage and being watched by the whole world. Judged. Over the year I've gotten much better at handling this anxiety but I'm certainly not perfect at it quite yet.

I sigh as I step foot on the stage and accept my award from the presenters continuing to look out at the oversized crowd. I find Barrie and I'm instantly calmed by him blowing me kisses and giving me a thumbs up in satisfaction. "Thank you so much," I stutter as I look out at the crowd, a huge grin of accomplishment taking over half my face. "I-I, I live here and I love it here, and I wrote my record here" I am talking about London of course. My brain is scattered. What should I say next? Am I talking to slow? My mind wracks for the most flawless words to say. "And I-I'm honored, and thank you so much to my managers, um, Ben and Ed, and to Polydor for helping me turn my life into a work of art" I look over at Barrie and smile. "And um, to Barrie James, and to Wendy and Jane my mentors, and to the good company that I'm in, it's very exciting" I laugh as I soak in the energy of the room, the flashing lights, the big screen playing MY video, the cameras that are live streaming me to the whole world, and in that moment, my mind goes blank. I think I've thanked everyone who has helped me win this award so I close my speech up, "So thank you so much... See ya!" I wave goodbye and make my way off the stage with a genuine grin planted on my face.

I'm so proud of myself, I've made it this far, I've just beat Taylor Swift, Alicia Keys, AND Rihanna. This is incredible. These are such incredible artists; I still can't believe I won. I walk back over to my table where I hug my managers and I kiss Barrie, again. It feels even better to hug them and kiss their cheek now that I can do it while holding my award. I feel like I'm on top of the world, there's nothing that can bring me down. All of these wonderful people have helped me get where I am... My managers who have put up with my shit when I know I wouldn't have, my amazing boyfriend who has kept me on the right path and who loves me for who I am, not my fame, and for my oh so lovely fans who have alwa- Wait a second. Did I thank the fans? Did I seriously just forget to thank all of the beautiful people who buy my records and provide me with the money I buy dinner with? I rest my head on Barrie's shoulder. I feel so disappointed. Not just disappointed, I feel AWFUL. Team Lana are some of the most loving and supportive fans ever and I just forgot to thank them. Actually, they should have been the first people to thank. Without my fans, Born to Die would have been my third failed album, and quite possibly my last attempt in the music industry.

Immediately I pull my blackberry out and open twitter. "Gee, they're always yelling at me for not tweeting so I might as well tweet now," I giggle to myself, trying to make light of this situation. As I refresh my timeline, I'm taken off guard. I was going to go type them biggest thank you tweet to my fans until I see three new tweets retweeted onto my timeline from Marina & The Diamonds. Shit. Marina and I don't get along nicely. We're always being compared, when really we have nothing in common. She's a two faced bitch who claims her newest album isn't about her; it's just "figurative". Well if you spend two seconds to think about it you'll realize what a demanding, self-centered person she really is. As I try to scroll quickly past her tweets to see what my fans have to say about me winning the award, I stop scrolling and go back to her tweets. She tweeted three times in a row all in the last five minutes, which I just thought was kind of weird. I don't intend to look like a creep, but I click on her profile. "Guess being a daddy's girl pays off every once in a while", "Funny how much fame plastic surgery can bring you", "Remember kids, making two albums about a worn out and depressing theme will win you lots and lots of awards". I reread those three tweets over and over until I physically cannot read them anymore. I've memorized them from reading them so many times. Fuck none of this being my business, this was ALL my business. I clench my jaw so hard that my jawline must be beaming and if I squeeze my phone any tighter it would shatter into pieces. Barrie looks over at me with a concerned expression and puts his hand on my thigh. I brush him off and throw my phone on the table in anger and disgust... My night was ruined.