Sometimes you just… wake up at 2am, scrolling, wondering how you ended up here. Like, how did this become YOUR life. You know? Saw a post today — some kid, student, rocking designer threads, thousands of likes. All that cool-girl confidence. And you just… sigh. Because you get it. You really, really do. Used to freelance styling, you know, before the gigs dried up. Always on the hustle. No benefits, the rent for THIS month is already looking kinda sideways. So you get the temptation. You get how easy it would be to just… snap a pic. Looking like money. Like you have it all together. And then… return it. Swipe right back onto the card. The thrill, right? The little hit of dopamine from the likes, the comments. The "OMG, where did you get that?" knowing full well it’s already back on a rack in Nordstrom, probably. Or Saks, if we’re being fancy. It’s almost a performance art piece, really. A commentary on the whole damn thing. The illusion. *La mentira*. And you wonder if that kid… if they feel it too. That dull ache. That knowing it’s all smoke and mirrors. But you can’t stop. Because the numbers go up. And the world *sees* you. Even if it’s not REALLY you. The real you, sitting here in sweatpants, with a cold coffee, trying to figure out if you can afford that dental cleaning. It’s wild, isn’t it? How easy it is to become a character in your own life. Just… for the likes. For the validation, I guess. Though that’s a heavy word. More like… a little flicker. A small spark in the dark. And then it’s gone. Just like the clothes. Back to the store. And you’re just… here. Again.