I’m sitting here in the goddamn dark and my eyes are burning. It’s 2 AM and I just spent four hours—FOUR HOURS—on one stupid picture of me holding a mug. I had to smooth out the neck, tuck the chin, erase the bags under my eyes because mom was up every thirty minutes tonight screaming for her pillows. I look at the screen and she’s gorgeous. Glowing. No pores. No stress. Then I went to the bathroom and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and I swear to god I didn't even know who she was. Just some tired old woman with grey roots and a look on her face like she’s about to give up. I don't even know what I look like anymore. Not really. I’ve got fifty thousand people following me because I’m supposed to be this "aspirational" mom or whatever the hell they call it now. I post about the best coffee shops and the new "aesthetic" home decor but I don't give a shit about any of it. I don't even like the coffee. It’s too sweet and it makes my heart race but it’s what’s trending so I buy it and I smile and I take the damn picture. My whole life is just a series of things I think other people want to see. Even my hobbies are fake.