The Performance Persona

Have you noticed a certain type of person rising in recent years? Their life plays like a highlight reel: luxury travel, designer outfits, perfect skin, and curated backdrops. Every post is edited to appear effortless, yet everything is calculated. Spend a few minutes with them, and you’ll start questioning your own timeline. Plastic surgery and face-altering procedures are routine, not always for beauty, but for branding. The goal isn’t authenticity. It’s aspiration.

We’ve all come across people like this. They glide through life with a polished glow: distant, and vaguely artistic. But look closer, and something feels hollow. Their charm is rehearsed. Their presence feels like a performance. What they offer isn’t real connection, it’s a projection. A well-lit version of life, carefully stripped of flaws.

Spending time around them can be oddly unsettling. Conversations feel performative, like you're part of a script that centers their image. There’s an unspoken hierarchy: who looks better, who’s more followed, who’s more in-demand. It’s not always intentional, but the atmosphere they create can leave others feeling small, unsure, or like they need to adjust themselves to keep up. The anxiety doesn't come from anything overt; it comes from the subtle pressure to be more without ever knowing what “more” actually means.

They get attention. FAST. Not because they’re known, but because they look like someone worth knowing. That kind of attention becomes addictive. Over time, people start copying the formula: same filters, same poses, same designer labels, same aesthetic surgery. It works, so it spreads. The more we reward the image, the more people abandon their own. And slowly, we trade individuality for a template: all chasing the same illusion in slightly different packaging.

But I wanna take a pause there, who are we?

A friend of mine recently opened up about the quiet anxiety she feels by just existing online. It made me think. It’s not wrong to want attention. It’s not wrong to want to feel beautiful. And it’s certainly not wrong to share only the highlights of your life. But maybe the better question is: what’s the intention?

Are we chasing more followers? More likes? More pursuers? Or are we just trying to prove we’re enough, by becoming someone else entirely?

I can’t answer for everyone, but I can answer for myself. I want to be seen, and I want to feel grounded. I want to stay authentic to who I am, and become the kind of woman I’ll be proud of when I grow old. I don’t need thousands of followers. I just want a few real special ones who are present, curious, and consistent. The ones who aren’t performing, but simply are. That’s the only kind of connection that feels sustainable; the kind where we can actually see each other.

Imagine when you are old, you sit in front of fire pit with a group of special people, who witnessed our evolution and bragging about our "highlight", and that highlight, it's called life. How beautiful is that.

Do you feel anxiety from all the performers? Do you ever feel less wanted in comparison? My beautiful people: don’t be. You don’t want to be chased by performers or held by shallow connections. You want to be met. Seen. Felt. If someone chooses others over you, it’s protection by the God. Maybe the universe is clearing space for the right person to find you.

So stay unique. Stay true to yourself. Someone, someday, will see you, deeply, clearly, and still choose you. Every single second.

I promise. ❤️

And as a funny reminder! The robots are probably going to take over in the future anyway. They’ll be the ultimate performers: flawless, efficient, perfectly aesthetic. Are you really going to try to compete with that?!?! I "surrender" already haha

Messy and flawed isn’t a weakness. It’s proof we’re real.
And that? That’s beautiful. 🙂