My eyes stung with unshed tears, but I refused to let them fall. This was my mess, and I had no right to feel sorry for myself right now. The people who had every right to be upset were the now 134,000 viewers witnessing this meltdown in real time.
“I guess I presumed early on in my social media life that folks don’t like people who are flawed.” I gestured vaguely at the expensive equipment surrounding me. “So, I started Photoshopping images to erase imperfections. When I recorded myself, I made sure my makeup was always flawless, my hair done perfectly. I started wearing clothing that enhanced my body. I used filters that made my skin look perfect.”
I tilted my face at different angles, letting the shadows and light expose every pore, every tiny red mark and blackhead that normally never saw the light of day on my feed.
“I thought I had to be this perfect version of myself. And it seemed like once I started doing that, my views and followers skyrocketed.” I exhaled slowly. “But the more I created this perfect persona, the less true to myself I became.”
I moved to the floor, sitting cross-legged in front of the camera, no longer concerned with how the angle might emphasize my double chin or the way my stomach folded when I sat.
“The truth is, I’m just an ordinary girl. I’m nothing special. There’s no difference between someone with ten followers versus me with millions.”
I looked down at my fingers, twisting them nervously in my lap.
“Well, I suppose there’s one big difference, isn’t there?” A humorless smile escaped me. “The girl with ten followers is being authentic and honest. And I wasn’t. I never deserved those millions of followers.”
My chest felt tight, like something was pressing against it from the inside, demanding release.
“From the bottom of my heart, I’m really sorry. I lied to you. I misled you, long before I pretended to get engaged to Axel.” The words tumbled out faster now. “To the brands that entrusted me with your sponsorships, I’m sorry. To my family, who never put the burden of keeping their lives financially afloat on me, I’m sorry.”
I paused, my throat constricting as Axel’s face flashed in my mind. Not the smirking playboy the public saw, but the man who’d held me when I cried about Knox, who’d seen me at my worst and still agreed to this ridiculous charade.
“And to Axel …” My voice broke, betraying me. I pinched the bridge of my nose, fighting for composure. “I’m really sorry for what I put you through. You all deserved better than what I’ve done.”
Through the window behind me, the sun cast long shadows across the room. How fitting that darkness would soon fall as I finally stepped into the light.
“Social media has a dark side,” I said softly. “You open it up, and you see the best five percent of someone’s life. Or worse, a false version that makes everything look perfect and makes you feel even more imperfect than you already do.”
The memories flooded back of endless nights of scrolling, comparing, despairing.
“They have a clean house, or they make perfect food, or they have a perfect body, or they have the best makeup or hair or clothes or friends or whatever. I swear, I used to open social media, and whatever insecurity I was feeling, it had this power to magnify that vulnerability and make me feel worse about myself.”
I placed a hand flat against my chest, feeling my heartbeat beneath my palm.
“And I probably made you feel worse about yourself.” The realization hit with fresh pain. How had I never thought of that before? “What I wish I would’ve done differently was be true to myself and be true to you. I mean, so what if my hair was messy? So what if I had a coffee stain on my shirt or dust on my desk when filming?”
A tear finally escaped, sliding down my cheek.
“Maybe if I would’ve had the courage to lean into that, maybe everything would’ve been different.”
I paused.
“I thought being vulnerable made me weak. That revealing imperfections would lead to being rejected. I thought that theperfectly curated image I’d created was what people wanted, and sadly, that extended to my romantic relationships too. I thought anyone who saw the real me would leave. But my obsession with appearing perfect prevented me from having meaningful, genuine connections and made me less authentic with you, my audience. I’ve learned that in life, true intimacy and authenticity are about sharing both strengths and weaknesses. So”—I opened my arms wide, turning my face from side to side—“this is me. No makeup. No filter. No hairdo, and no beautiful outfit.”
The words came easier now, a dam breaking. “The truth is, I’m a hot mess, just like many other people out there. The difference is, I let my insecurities lead my life while others were much braver than I was.”
I leaned closer to the camera, as if I could somehow reach through the screen and connect with each person watching.
“Please know that social media isn’t bad. It’s actually a wonderful place. There’s a whole world of people you get to meet. There’s inspiration, joy, ideas, and camaraderie. And there are plenty of people being authentic and cheering each other on. I wish I had been one of those people.”
My phone had stopped buzzing. Either my PR team had given up or they were watching in horrified silence like everyone else.
“I took all of that for granted when I agreed to this charade. Please know this whole thing is on me, not my family, who knew nothing about it. And it’s not on Axel.”
The memory of his eyes, dark with his profession of love, tightened my chest.
“Axel is … he’s a really good guy.” My voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “I’m the one who dragged him into this, not the other way around.”
More tears now, falling freely despite my best efforts to contain them. I swiped at them with the back of my hand.
