Because being a Starboy isn’t a choice. It’s a sentence. A glorious, reckless, unforgettable sentence.
This is the era of detachment. Of driving faster than your demons can run. Of switching the Maybach for something sleeker, something darker. Every room he walks into recognizes the shift: the air gets thinner, the bass gets louder, and yesterday’s heroes suddenly look like opening acts. Starboy
Still, he doesn't slow down. Can't slow down. Because being a Starboy isn’t a choice
He doesn’t ask for the spotlight. He takes it. This is the era of detachment
But here’s the truth about a Starboy—the higher you climb, the lonelier the view. The trophies collect dust. The love feels borrowed. And when the lights go down, all that’s left is the echo of your own footsteps in an empty mansion.