Column: I woke up like this: ***flawed

Beyonce’s performance at this year’s MTV Video Music Awards was impressive. In a tightly choreographed 16-minute routine, Queen Bey slayed nearly every track from her self-titled 2013 visual album, aka the greatest surprise in the history of recorded music.

So why am I feeling jaded?

I love and respect Ms. Knowles-Carter as an artist and cultural figure, but can’t help feeling overwhelmed by the prevalence of Beyonce worship.

From the post-VMA tweet “Having a true moment right now ... is this what it feels like to see a divine being in person?!” to another with a photo of Blue Ivy captioned: “When you realize your mama is God so you lowkey Jesus,” the Beyonce worship is shifting from laughable to ridiculous. Even a “Saturday Night Live” sketch entitled “The Beygency” satirized the prevalent belief that critique of Beyonce is un-American.

A UNC student unwilling to speak openly for fear of retribution denounced the rise of Beyonce’s cultural clout.

“I seriously did used to like Beyonce,” he said in a text message. “Now, whenever I hear that she’s performing at awards shows, I just get annoyed because I know that whatever she does, people will be like ‘OMGGGGG QUEEN B JUS SLAYEDDD.’”

The backlash is imminent, from murmurs of divorce to the “of course sometimes s—t go down when it’s a billion dollars on an elevator” Solange/Jay Z family fight after the Met Gala.

My fears stem from the natural arc of life: the rise and fall of icons. From the Roman Empire to Britney Spears, nothing gold can stay.

Culturally, we regard celebrities highly, then immediately disdain them at the first sign of fallibility. Worse, we sometimes use the very same traits forming their likeable personas to facilitate their downfall. Lady Gaga, once esteemed for her avant-garde contributions to the pop scene, became “too arty.” Taylor Swift, lauded for her transparent depiction of female adolescence, is now criticized for her juvenile songwriting. In the world of the pop diva, sustainability is an impossibility.

All of this means little to the genuine Beyonce fan who appreciates her vocal prowess and emotional range. These traits won’t die. Her talent is inherent. But for those who feel culturally obliged to bow down, the Reign of Yonce is coming to a quick end.

In her 2013 autobiographical HBO documentary “Life is But a Dream,” Beyonce shares with us her genuine self. In many scenes, she wears minimal makeup and speaks candidly of struggles both personal and professional. Her intent is to expose viewers to the truth of celebrity: It’s a facade.

The greatness of being an artist comes from mistakes, from having the courage to embrace the machinations of a flawed and fickle mind. Viewing an artist as infallible breeds insurmountable expectations. Downfall is inevitable.

In my favorite track from her self-titled album, Beyonce admits, “No, I’m not an angel either, but at least I’m trying.” All we can and should do is commend the fruits of her effort.