Short story about a girl called You and

A boy called I.

uhh i hope this makes sense!! if anyone reads this please i need comments on whether this works out!!

You stood in the bright lights,  the praise drowning her in love. Everything she did was uplifted and begged to continue.

You loved the smiles, she loved the cameras. The online praises, The worshipers and the fangirls. She loved the look of money, the gold cased covers and jewelry. The silken bed and feather pillows. 

She would closed her eyes, looking for something better.

And nothing was found, nothing was better. She had everything.

For any girl this was a dream.

For any girl sitting at home, for the girl alone, the girl crying, the one hurting herself. 

You was everything.

You knew she was at the top, and You wanted nothing more than to stay here with everything.

I was alone, not in the same way You was, I had nothing.

I had a dying dog next to him to nuzzle himself to sleep.

I had shaky fingers and cried himself to sleep in a second hand pillow. I would lie down on his floor, staring at the sky and created words to the stars.

The stars wrote stories he knew it. The bright ones told stories like You. The fame the everything, the small diming ones wrote stories like I, the forgotten broken ones.

You was a puppet. You was told what to say, how to dress, how to feel. 

Happy, paste the smile and show the world! They eased her words, and her mind. In time they removed her heart, replacing in gold and money. 

I was a soul, he chose how to dress, how to act and how to feel.

Happy, show the world the smile, show the world life will get better. 

In time all stars wore off.

In time You was forgotten, the studios pushed her away. The world forgot her took her silk bed and left her in the dust. Left her alone

In time I moved on, in time I used stories to write, painted pictures of the stars he loved so much.

You lost her feeling, without a heart to take on, You fell,

The world found I, the world loved I,

They promised the gifts of gold and feather beds.

The promised cameras and worshippers. They promised eased mind and soft life. 

I looked at them, in a weird smile. Why would he want to loose who made him? The gentle and the pain that created him, that created I?

He looks at You gently and carefully, reaching a hand, only what he wanted for so long. 
"Are you okay You?" He asks her, helping her up. "You know you are not alone." He says,