Watching your life unfold from behind closed curtains is probably the most overwhelming sensation there is. One minute you're on set, the next you're off of it. One minute you're the director, the next you're just the looser reenacting the scene. And in the midst of it all, there is the camera person, the backstage shadow who has no idea what's going on.
As the curtains slowly open, you hear strange voices calling out your name. You don't know them. They don't know you. They just love the perfect idea of you, obscure as that may be. And when you find yourself staring at their blank pathetic faces, you cannot help but wonder why you did this in the first place.
The show is now drawing to a close and you are bowing and clapping and sleeping, among other things. Your personal belongings are now on public display, for them to criticise and judge, for them to ridicule and smudge. The highest bidder takes it all. He wants it all. For you. The highest bidder understands, no matter what.
Because the highest bidder is also the camera person, the backstage shadow who had no idea what the hell was going on, but now does. The highest bidder is a reflection in the mirror twenty years from now. Yes, the highest bidder is no one else but you, the less pathetic version of poor pathetic you.