This Damned Soul of Mine

Hi, my name is Ashley Blithe Orcuss, I'm seventeen years old, and I'm a musician. A musician, in the sense that the earth is a rock, that is. I've toured across every first-world country on the planet, six of my albums have gone platinum, and, obviously, I get whatever I want. The only thing I don't have these days is the ownership of my soul. A year ago I sold my soul to the devil for success. I always had the talent, but the world can be blind to things it can't quite fathom.
But the contract had a loophole: for every other person I can get to sell their soul, I get one more month before I die. Pretty sweet deal, considering I have endless followers who would do anything to impress me. I'm basically immortal, have all the fame and recognition I deserve, and the world bows at my feet. You're probably realizing by now that I'm a piece of shit, and you're not wrong. Yeah, I'm also honest with myself about who I am. Unfortunately, I have this so-called guardian angel pestering me now, doing his damnedest (no pun intended) to make me realize that I'm a good person. He claims he has a way to get me out of my contract, but honestly, I don't want out.