“US-led planes strike ISIS fighters attacking Syria town.”

“Jennifer Lawrence nudes leaked.”

Let’s be honest; which headline would you click?

In something of pure pathetic reality, we all know what the majority would do. Why, you ask? Because of the racy essence of the second headline, but dig deeper…

There’s a sick satisfaction found in the catastrophic downfall of the “elite.”  They have it all: fame, fortune, millions of adoring fans, talent —sometimes, but that’s neither here nor there—beauty, status, achievement…and so on and so on.

Why discuss what actually happens in the world, what affects thousands of lives, or has the power to revolutionize international relations as we know it, when Miley Cyrus is smoking a blunt on national television and Brad and Angelina are getting married?! 

The fact that people have no idea where Barack Obama stands on nuclear non-proliferation, yet can name five of Taylor Swift’s ex-boyfriends should call for an intense reality check.

Academy Award winning actor Nicolas Cage said, “We’ve become so glorified in the movie-star system that it’s become this artificial royalty. The truth is that we’re circus clowns.” If we look at the cold, hard facts of the matter, Americans ultra-consumed in mainstream pop culture worship celebrities because of sheer romanticism for a reality that doesn’t exist. We swear by the lives of the privileged due to envy of what we think they represent, when in actuality, in complete disregard of sounding cliché, “the grass isn’t greener on the other side.”

Unfortunately, this over-glorification of celebrities in our culture stems from media glamorization of extraordinarily average people. From as early on as possible, we are indoctrinated to believe in the validity of a “perfection” these superstars so readily and easily seem to possess. But think about it—it’s easy to look flawless when a team of cosmetologists applies your makeup, your fashion stylist dresses you every morning, your personal trainer ensures the upkeep of your physique, your personal chef prepares your low-calorie meals, your private photographer photoshops your latest news spread to create an immaculate facade, and your image team portrays you as a brand, in the most luminous and favoring light they can get away with. The fact is, it’s all a lie.

Is the fact that over 80 percent of Hollywood stars have struggled with addiction to narcotics, including countless lives lost as a result, a coincidence? Or is there something missing—an emptiness perhaps— that comes with fame, unseen to the naked eye? Not only do celebrities go through the same issues as “everyday” people—hardship, love, failure, embarrassment, happiness, regret—but they often express nostalgia for the times they were able to buy a Big-Gulp from 7/11 in their pajamas without it being splashed across Page Six.

It’s hard for me to grasp the obsession with a celebrity outside of his or her job,  although most have completely mastered the feat. Loving a musician for his artistic creativity and performance presence is completely opposite from covering yourself in Selena Gomez tattoos or taking a day off from work to celebrate Beyoncé’s birthday, both of which are legitimate instances. You can’t make this stuff up.

Granted, as a New Yorker I’m a huge fan of Derek Jeter, but my life isn’t modeled after him. 

When we make celebrities our everything, not only is it insane, but it can have detrimental effects on our self esteem and mental health in extreme cases. 

Comparing yourself to the models in the Victoria’s Secret catalogue who sit in a corner eating celery sticks all day won’t do anything for you. 

This worship of celebrities, under the asinine premise that they are somehow better than us, begs the question: what does this say about us? 

A whole lot if you ask me. It illuminates the numerous inaccuracies of American prioritization, shows reason for the increase in low self-worth in adolescents and embarrassingly spells out the misguided approach with which those we idolize. 

We don’t know who Hugo Chávez was, but we know where Kim Kardashian partied last night. 

They say the first step in overcoming the beast is acknowledging it. 

Subsequently, rectification of unhealthy worship of average human beings can be done (yay!). Adoration for the accomplished or the people you may personally adore is cute, but on other levels, it’s time to move on. 

Counterbalance of celebrity stalking and invasion of privacy starts with us—the consumers. The media only puts out what we buy; income is based on what pleases us. 

Thus, in this era of consumer control of commercial affluence, perhaps instead of spending $3 a week on trying to find out why Solange punched Jay-Z, you can save it and buy actual tickets to see Beyoncé and Jay’s world tour. 

In all, people who put emphasis on celebrities to the point of compulsion deserve the reality check they will get when they finally realize it was in vain.

No matter how much you love him, Harry Styles does not and will not ever know you, nor should you hold your breath for a proposal anytime soon.

Sorry.