When Mia’s follower count stalled at 10,000, she knew she needed something big. The curated lifestyle shots, the pastel morning lattes, and the “just woke up” selfies weren’t cutting it anymore. She wanted to break through, to trend, to matter.

One night, in a haze of frustration and half-drunk cold brew, Mia filmed herself cutting up her designer wardrobe—dresses, bags, even her prized Valentino heels. “I’m done with the fakeness,” she said into the camera. “This is the real me. Take it or leave it.”

She posted it with the caption: #DestroyToRebuild.

By morning, the video had 2 million views.

Her follower count exploded. Brands reached out with sponsorship deals, despite—or perhaps because of—the destruction. Mia became “the influencer who wasn’t afraid to burn it all down.” Her followers begged for more. What would she destroy next?

And so, she leaned in. She shredded paintings, smashed a $1,000 coffee maker, and deleted old photos of herself with exes. Every post trended higher than the last.

But then came the requests. “Burn your childhood photos!” one commenter wrote. “Prove how real you are.” The likes poured in, and Mia hesitated.

One rainy afternoon, she stood in front of a fireplace, holding a shoebox filled with Polaroids. Her parents smiling at her fifth birthday party. Her late dog, Max, running in the yard. She pressed record, held up a photo, and stared into the camera.

“I’m not sure I can do this,” she whispered.

The comments rolled in instantly: Do it! Be raw! Be authentic!

Her hands shook as she fed the first photo to the flames. The likes surged, and so did her nausea. By the time the box was empty, her face was streaked with tears, and the video had 5 million views.

But something shifted after that. The comments started to sour.

This feels staged.
Is she even real?
Why are you crying if you wanted this?

Mia stared at her reflection in her phone screen, the person she’d become unrecognizable. She had gained 500,000 followers in a month but felt more alone than ever.

One night, she posted a video of herself sitting in silence. No props, no stunts—just her face, pale and tired.

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” she admitted. “And I think... I need to figure that out before I do anything else.”

The video got a fraction of her usual views, but the comments were different this time.

Take your time.
We’ll be here when you’re ready.
Mia, thank you for being real.

For the first time in weeks, Mia felt lighter. She logged off, put her phone in a drawer, and walked outside into the quiet night. The algorithm could wait. She had a life to rediscover.