I don’t care who you think you are. I don’t care that you’ve been in the limelight for over eight years now. I don’t care how many followers you garner on Twitter, nor do I care how many venues you’ve previously sold out. I don’t care that you’re Lady Gaga, Maroon 5, or even Beyoncé.

Tickets to see you live and in concert should not cost my college tuition.

I work hard for my money, as hard as the next desperate college student. I work long shifts, deal with rude costumers, and generally, I have better things I could be doing with my life, like sleeping or watching Netflix. I work hard and, for the most part, I don’t enjoy spending the money I’ve slaved away for.

How dare you charge that much for your concert? How do you sleep at night knowing you’ve exploited your fans, sucking them of all the cash they have? You were a kid once, weren’t you? Heck, you’re still a kid now! You’re only year older than me! Really, who do you think you are?

You’re a legend? Oh that’s cute. Do you remember who you were before you were famous? You were probably into music. You probably loved concerts. But you probably didn’t enjoy paying an arm and a leg for them, did you? I don’t even know you, but I can answer for you: no. No, you didn’t like being charged $85 for a single ticket, feeling violated and left without so much as a five-dollar bill to buy an overpriced pretzel at the concert.

I should not have to pay as much as I do to go to a concert.

But I do it anyway. I’m still the person who spends two weeks’ worth of paycheck to get decent seats and who waits on line for hours to hopefully stand front row. I’m the one holding the sign proclaiming my love to you even though you made me pay an incredulous amount for my spot in the crowd. I’m the one who’s been there and who always will, even when, eventually, your tickets will be so expensive I’ll have to resort to selling body organs. So you’re welcome.