I had everything the rest of the world craved—money, fame, fortune, any girl I wanted. I admit, I liked that part. What 16-year-old guy didn't want girls to melt when he walked in the room? And I certainly wasn't complaining when Domino's Pizza offered me a million bucks to be their ad boy. If I didn't have something, it was only because I didn't want it. I was a devout atheist, livin' large, hanging out with the beautiful people.
Years later when people asked about that time in my life, I defined it like this: Imagine a world where whatever you want is given to you as quickly as possible. When you walk into a room, all the adults smile at you, talk nicely and say, "What do you want? Okay, I'll give that to you."
Everything in your life is carefully placed with the intent to make you happy. If you aren't happy, no expense is too great in order to fix the situation. As far as you can tell, you are the center of the universe. Everything revolves around you, your schedule, your dreams and wishes. You are more important to adults than other kids are. "Why is that?" your little mind asks. And the only answer you can come up with is that you are very, very unique.
That was my childhood, my adolescence, my reality.
The smug 16-year-old climbing out of his white Honda Prelude had no time to muse about what was wrong with that picture. I was Kirk Cameron, and I was on top of the world.